The Shroud Unwoven
by The River Watcher
Summary: Years after being separated from his family, Sully struggles to return home to his wife. As Michaela fights to keep things together for her children, she begins to wonder who the mysterious man in town really is, and what truly happened to her husband.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Neither the characters of Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman, nor the quotes from _The Odyssey _belong to me, but I appreciate the creators of both.

The Shroud Unwoven

Prologue

_-"Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns driven time and again off course, once he had plundered the hallowed heights of Troy"-_

May 1872

Two hawks, swept the heights of the heavens, falling and rising along the waves of the cool morning breeze. Their journey was intricate, twisting and turning with wings stretched out. Just as one would fly ahead, responding to the motions of its own path, looking as if it had finally broken from his mate to fly solo, the other bird would come soaring into view, reminding her companion that he never truly was alone, though it may appear that way.

The cry of the two hawks could be heard all the way in the valley below, piercing the stillness of a spring morning.

Michaela could hear the guttural song faintly in the recesses of her mind, but the sound failed to register with her as she moved around the kitchen. Instead, she bent intently over the stack of soiled breakfast dishes, slowly scrapping the leftovers from the plate in her hand before placing it into the wash bucket sitting to her right. It was all she could do to ignore the half pack haversack sitting on the table behind her like an uninvited guest waiting for the right moment to drop a horrible secret.

It was ridiculous, it really was, Michaela thought to herself. She had never before had such an aversion to Sully leaving for a few days. In fact, she had always done her best to accept his trips, work or otherwise, to make it easier for him. Yet, from the very moment he told her what it was he wanted to do, she found herself fighting the urge to beg him to stay. Now, her stomach fluttered as though she were performing a surgery she wasn't familiar with. She couldn't name her nervousness, and the fact that she couldn't manage a single reason that she should feel this way, worried her even more.

"Bababa… bababammm." A constant strand of babble filtered through the homestead, preceding the sound of the door shutting and announcing to Michaela that she was no longer alone in the homestead. Sully turned the corner.

Michaela glanced up at him between her scrapping, and had to smile. He stood in the corner of the kitchen with a happily humming Katie balanced firmly on his forearm. She sat, tugging on the strand of beads that her pa wore around his neck, as he tried to coax them gently out of her hand. She had a bright grin on her face that told him she wasn't giving them up anytime soon. This game was fun.

"Ya want 'em so much? Why don' ya keep 'em for me?" Sully chuckled, lifting the ring of red beads from around his neck and draping them over Katie. It was only now that he looked up at Michaela, as if realizing that she had yet to speak to them since they had entered. He moved to put Katie on the floor, where she sat eagerly playing with her new won treasure.

"Breakfast was good this mornin'." Sully said as he straightened, turning to consider Michaela's silent form.

She glanced at him quickly, a half smile forcing its way across her face. "Thank you." Her hands reached for the last of the dishes, a plate that looked as though nothing had been eaten off it at all. It still sat filled with the original portion of eggs and sausage- minus a few bites.

Sully moved gingerly to the counter, as if he were on one of his tracks through the forest and had spotted a creature both beautiful and precious and he desired to see it closer without scaring the animal away. He knew his way around Michaela well enough to know what steps not to take. He leaned against the edge of the counter at her side, taking the same position he often did while she was working in the kitchen.

"Ya didn' eat much." The inquiry was simple, with a casual hand moved out to gesture at the plate in Michaela's hand. She blushed, and he knew she wasn't angry.

"I don't suppose I was that hungry." In a swift motion, she emptied the plate of its contents and dropped it into the bucket at her side.

"What's wrong?" A raised look from Michaela was enough to answer his question, "Michaela," he breathed, not knowing what else to do. They had been over this many times, and yet she still wasn't able to let this go. It had been two weeks and her opinion on this trip hadn't changed; he had no idea why. Everything was going to be perfectly fine, he told her, and yet at each night, he knew that she was still anxious over something unnamed. Reaching out with his hand, he ran it down her back, pausing to add a gentle pressure just below her shoulder blades. His voice lowered to a compassionate tone. "Look, if ya don' want me ta go jus say it. Tell me ta stay an' I'll stay."

Michaela shook her head violently. "I don't want you to stay. This is what you want, and it's good. You're going will be the best thing that happens to those Cheyenne."

"But ya're upset."

"Over nothing!" This perhaps is what bothered her the most, that her fear was completely irrational. "There's absolutely no reason for you not to go." Reaching for a dishcloth, she turned to move from his embrace, but his hand dropped to her waist, holding her firmly in place as he stepped closer, eliminating all space between them.

"Michaela…" he breathed her name; the blueness of his eyes was like ice, freezing the fear and anxiety that flipped in the pit of Michaela's stomach.

She sighed. "It's a feeling," she admitted, sagging her shoulders slightly under the weight of it all, "I just have a feeling that something will go wrong, that this isn't as simple as we think it will be. It's… it's just a bad feeling."

A childlike smile tugged at a corner of Sully's mouth, "ya know I'm a big boy, right? I can take care a myself." The understatement was enough to make Michaela giggle as the memories of all the things she'd seen him do flashed before her; crawling down a collapsed mining cave, fighting off dog soldiers, stopping a runaway train. He most certainly could take care of himself. He'd proven that many times.

Sully was relieved to see the inklings of a smile spread across his wife's face, enough so that he leaned back a little, adding, "'sides, 'fore ya know it the week's gonna be over an' I'm gonna be home an' we'll be celebratin' a birthday." Sully leaned back enough to see Katie, who was still playing contently with the beads, though now she had resorted to pushing them across the floor and then scooting after them. When he turned back to Michaela, he realized she had been watching the same scene. Their eyes locked and her smile widened.

Michaela thrust the uneasiness aside, Sully was absolutely right. There wasn't any reason to be concerned, and he'd be home before she hardly even noticed he were gone. The tingling settled into a thick hum at the bottom of her stomach. Sully smiled at her, watching as her emotions clearly danced across her face. Her body relaxed under his palm. Leaning toward her, he placed an adoring kiss to her temple, as if sealing his words in truth. The kiss moved from her temple, to her cheek, before finding a place at her lips, pausing only long enough to taste the sweetness there before pulling away.

"Hey Sully, I got the wood stacked behind the barn. Would ya like me to saddle Mags, for you?" Michaela and Sully could hear Brian chattering away before he even turned into the kitchen. The boy was dressed in his dark work clothes, his hair was windswept, and his shirtsleeves were already rolled to his forearms, making him look older than he was. Michaela had to remind herself every day that he wasn't the same little boy that she had adopted so long ago, he was nearly taller than she was now, and exhibited wisdom beyond his years.

Michaela grabbed the scraps plate that had been sitting forgotten on the counter. "While you're doing that, would you put this in the scrap bin, please?" She passed the plate to Sully, who moved around the table and handed it to Brian.

"Thanks, Brian. I'll be there in a bit."

The door shut behind Brian, and Sully turned his attention back to Katie. "Hey, Kates ya wanna help me finish packin'?" Reaching down, he scooped his little girl up under her arms and swung her into the air; her giggle crackled like a warm fire in the winter hearth. Michaela couldn't help herself; there was no way she could keep herself from laughing as well, and what was left of her tension completely faded.

"Sully?" she spoke, not turning from the dishes she was still trying to finish. Instead she just waited for his reply, as he moved to the little kitchen table.

"Yea?" He sat Katie before him, and she instantly grabbed for a folded shirt and pulled it over her head.

"Tell me again what you're going to be doing."

Sully reached for a different shirt and shoved it to the bottom of the haversack. "Well, General Madison is transferring 'bout twenty Cheyenne men to the Wilm's Creek reservation in south western South Dakota."

"Is it a large reservation?"

"It ain't huge, but it's growin'."

"Why do they want to move the Cheyenne?"

"To break up an alliance that formed on the reservation. They're afraid of a potential insurrection an' they wanna make sure there ain't any chance a that happenin'." A silence fell between them, as Sully continued to pack, smiling occasionally at a blissfully happy Katie, but unable to remove his mind from the situation he was walking into. Finally, Michaela's voice came quietly.

"Are you ok with that?"

"Not really, but there ain't much I can do. That's why when Ed McCook asked me if I'd travel with 'em ta make sure that the Cheyenne were treated fairly, I didn't wanna say no."

Finishing the last plate Michaela sat it on the top of her stack and turned toward him, "they're fortunate they have someone like you to speak for them." Sully dropped his head, watching his hands as he tied the haversack shut.

Two small hands grasped his arm, pulling and tugging on his sleeve. With a tremendous amount of effort, Katie stood, stably on her feet, grasping tightly to her pa's shirt for stability. She grinned a toothy smile, lifting her feet as fast as she could get them in the air.

"Look at ya!" Sully laughed, pulling his Kates to a loose embrace. He lowered his head so that they were at eye level. "Ya're gonna be walkin' in no time."

"You better be careful, she might just decide to take those steps this week, and you won't even be here to see them." Michaela teased lightly, moving to stand next to her family.

"Na, ya ain't gonna do that are ya? Ya're gonna wait for me ta get back, then ya'll be running all over the homestead." Katie, simply happy to have the undivided attention of both her parents, giggled and nodded, as if agreeing to Sully's words. She bounced excitedly once she realized that both Michaela and Sully were smiling at her.

Michaela reached out and pulled Katie to her, settling the little girl on her hip. "I think it's getting about time for you to be leaving." She absentmindedly smoothed at Katie's soft curls as she watched Sully gather the last of his things.

Outside, Sully pulled on the strap that securely fastened his pack and bed role to Mags' back before turning back to his family. Brian met him halfway to the porch, and Sully greeted the boy with a casual hand at his back. Together, they walked back to where Michaela stood with Katie at the base of the steps.

"I want ya to take care of your Ma and sister while I'm gone." Sully's voice was low, a father releasing responsibilities to his only son. Brian relished in his adopted father's faith to think that he could be the man of the house for the next week. Michaela could tell by the bright crooked smile that spilt the boy's face.

"I can do that."

Sully smiled, "Ya're gonna do a good job." His voice rose as they approached Michaela and Katie, "when I get back we'll go fishin' at the new crook in the Yellow Creek."

"Sure." With a firm pat on the back Sully turned his attention to Katie who was wiggling in her mother's arms.

"Don't forget your promise now." He tapped her on the nose, "no walkin' til I get back." Katie, unconcerned with what her pa was telling her, mimicked his motion, reaching out with her own tiny finger to tap him on the nose. Sully laughed a light and carefree laugh before leaning in to kiss her.

Then he turned to Michaela. "Only one week?" She asked, eyes raised, seeking reconfirmation.

"Only a week. It'll be over 'fore ya know it." A gentle hand ran the length of her back. He leaned in for a kiss, pausing against her skin to relish her closeness. He could smell the flowery scent of her skin and feel the feathery softness of her hair as it brushed against his hand.

"I love ya."

"I love you too."

Sully turned from them, swinging himself onto his mount, with a single glance over his shoulder, he lifting his hand, a silent good buy. Brian returned the gesture, as Michaela hugged Katie closer to herself. As Sully galloped further away from the homestead, she felt the uneasiness return once more. Above, two hawks could be seen flying their dance through the sky.

* * *

The caravan could be spotted sitting stationary from the top of Reservation Hill. They had barely traveled a mile when Sully caught up, trotting aimlessly beside the cluster of wagon, horses, and men until he made it to the front of the grouping and slid from his horse, landing with both feet securely on the ground.

"General Madison?" A dark headed man turned around to face Sully with curious and somewhat annoyed eyes. Madison was a small built man, shorter in stature than Sully, and yet, the double buttoned breast of his uniform, closed pristinely to his neck made him look broader about the shoulders than he really was.

"I'm sorry, but I'm very busy at the moment…"

Sully stopped the man before he could go any farther. He offered his hand, a subtle gesture meant to diffuse any tension that his next words may bring. "I'm Byron Sully." The General's face instantly fell.

"Mr. Sully… to what do I owe this honor of our meeting. As you can see, I have my hands busy and I believe we need to be departing rather soon."

Sully shot a glance to the long caravan out of the corner of his eye. "That's just the thing," reaching into the folds of his leather belt, he produced a folded piece of paper. With an outstretched hand, he offered it to the General. "Governor McCook asked me ta go with ya an' make sure nothin' happens outta the ordinary."

Madison took the letter, a little forcefully, and glanced it quickly. Folding it hap hazardly, he glanced up frustrated. "Isn't it a break of promise for you to be dealing with the Indians?"

"I promised I'd never be on the reservation. Reservation's 'bout a mile to our south," he said, tossing his head in that direction. For a moment, Madison looked like a trout, opening his mouth, then closing it, and opening it again.

"The only reason McCook wants you here is to cover his back. He doesn't need any more trouble from back east." Sully said nothing. "Fine, you'll come along, but stay out of my way." Wadding the letter in his hand, he shoved it back to Sully.

"I'll stay out of your way if you stay out of mine."

Madison's eyes narrowed. "You can travel in the rear."

Sully turned, needing nothing more from the commanding officer. Walking Mags to the designated area, Sully took the opportunity to examine his surroundings. The first six riders were army, the general, his aides de camp, and a few other ranking officers. Behind them were four Cheyenne, hands tied before them as they sat upon individual mounts. It was obvious that these were the most trusted of the men. Behind the individual riders, were two wagons that sat six men each. The men were seated on the bottom of the wagon bed, facing one another. They were silent, hands clasped before them and eyes bowed to their laps, except one. As Sully traveled toward the back, gazing at the wagonloads, his eyes locked with a single warrior who gazed at him with what seemed to be no emotions at all, but behind the darkened eyes raged a quiet fire, waiting to burst free. The warrior did not care who Sully was or why he was there. He did not know that Sully cared for his people and wanted to help. To him, Sully was another white man, like all the others who road alongside him on their horses.

"His name's Raging River." Sully turned to see a uniformed man standing behind him. The man seemed young, no older than Matthew did, with feathery red hair and a naïve smile. "He seems to be the angriest of them all." Sully turned to glance at the Cheyenne one last time before turning his full attention to the boy.

"You must have been with these men a while."

"I've been here the past six months." Then offering his hand, "I'm James Finnegan, the camp Chaplain." Sully had to admit the he was slightly surprise, not only because a man so young was allowed to be chaplain, but that there was even one on this convoy. Accepting the gesture in a firm grasp, Sully nodded.

"Byron Sully." The boy's eyes widened.

"Sully? You mean _the _Sully?" Sully just gave the boy a questioning look. "You're like a legend out here."

Sully smirked, his hand tightening on the reins as he began to drive the conversation, further to the back of the convoy. "I didn' realize people talked."

"Really? Everyone that comes up to Colorado either has a story or he's heard of one. Like you making Custer let all those captives go right when he was about to hang them all? And the time that you saw the renegades attack some soldiers and covered it up with that lady doctor. They said she lied right to Custer's face. Course, I never rightly believed that story much because I don't know a soul who's met Custer who actually have the courage to say more than a couple of sentences to him, much less lie. Oh and what about the time the two of you ran in front of Chivington's charging cavalry?" He whistled through his teeth. "You must have some guts, and that doctor… she must be a spitfire."

The wagons in front of them screeched into motion.

Sully chuckled, "Ya better be careful, that lady doctor's my wife now."

* * *

The sun was hanging high in the sky, dissipating the cool breeze of the morning and replacing it with the harsh radiating heat of its rays. The caravan travelled in silence, with only the steady rhythm of the wagon wheels spinning across the rocky path and the steady _clop clop_ of horse hoofs against the earth. Each man traveled in silence, lost in his own thought or observation. The Cheyenne in the back of the wagon stared intently on the tightly coiled ropes that spoke of their immobility and helplessness. They were tied to the whim of the white man in charge, and that white man hadn't found it necessary to stop for anything.

Sully rode at the back of the group, quietly watching everything around him. He had sat patiently as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky, but now that the yellow bulb began to sink toward the west, he found he wouldn't be patient any longer. Pulling out from the line, he rode alongside the formation until he caught sight of General Madison.

"Don't ya think it's time to stop?" The General threw an exacerbated glance to Sully from the corner of his eye. He didn't bother to turn his head.

"There's no time. We have three days to get these men to Wilm's Creek."

"Ya got time ta spend twenty minutes letting these men have some water."

Madison slung his head to the side, a sudden movement that spoke something to the mixture of frustration and fear. "No… we…"

"Yea, ya do." Sully voice was quiet and strong, reminding Madison of what his presence on the journey was there for. He reminded Madison of the power that he possessed- an unfavorable report would not be tolerated.

A sudden movement on the reigns stopped the general in his tracks, his eyes conveying a warning to Sully that his words dare not speak. "All right! Prepare to break rank at the next stream crossing." He yelled behind him, not bothering to turn around to look at the men he was addressing.

The water break was quick, less than the twenty minutes that Sully had suggested, but he was only concerned with being certain that each man obtained enough water to fight the hours of riding under the hot sun. He walked toward the creek, to stand amid the crouching figures of men, scooping water into their mouth, struggling to catch enough to quench their thirst. Tapping the closest man to him, he handed him a corroded cup, motioning for him to pass it along when he was done.

Behind the Cheyenne, soldiers in blue paced back and forth, some resaddling horses, others standing in a circle talking among themselves, while some watched with contempt, the men at the creek. From the mass of blue, Finnegan emerged, a tin canteen swinging loosely at his side.

"He not showing any interest?" Finnegan spoke when he got close enough to be heard. Sully followed the young man's eyesight. Raging River sat against a tree, his elbows resting across the top of his bent knees. Dark strands of black hair hug in front of his lower face. It appeared as though he were staring at the river smoothed pebble laying before him, but the piercing white of his eyes as they peered between the dark strings gave away his true interest. His eyes locked with Sully's.

"No." Sully said, not adding _and it's not a good idea to push him_, while gratefully accepting the canteen offered to him.

* * *

It was late at night on the second day. Sully had long given up sleeping; there was an intense feeling of uneasiness that he found impossible to ignore. He watched Raging River through the day, quietly, and saw only that as the day progressed the Cheyenne became more alert and conscious. He moved more, looking around at his surroundings. He even dared to look several of the soldiers in the eye- and received in payment a threat from several of the men in blue. The soldiers laughed at the way the Indians submitted to their authority without question, and they did not notice as Raging River became bolder, but Sully noticed.

Sully sat leaning against a large stone, methodically stripping the bark off a limb he had found near their campsite. The entire camp was asleep, save two armed guards standing in the darkness. Raging River sat across the campfire, staring into the tree line as if there were somebody, something, that could be seen through the fluttering leaves. Sully wondered exactly what it was Raging River could see.

"Hénová'e tsé-vóohtomo?" _What do you see? _Sully asked, wondering if the man were to answer him or not. Did the Cheyenne know that he was there to help? The words hung suspended above the dancing flames of the campfire. There seemed to be no answer, not even a register that his words were even heard or understood.

"Netse Ôhvó'komaestse-htseho'a'ó'tov-vése-atová" _The eagle will come with fire._ The answer came when Sully's eyes lowered back to his hands, leaving no sign of the speaker, but in reality, there was no question of who made the prediction. Sully involuntarily felt his hands tighten on the stick he held, not knowing what the words meant, but feeling as though they needed no explanation. His eyes lifted to the tree line, what was it that could be seen in the darkness? In that instant, Sully knew that it was not an answer of whom he could see, but who could see him.

* * *

The next morning Sully sat erect in his saddle, his entire body so tense that he barely swayed with the motion of Mags' footsteps beneath him. He was painfully alert to everything around him, all the sounds of the forest, the early morning sights. The hair on the back of his neck seemed to stand on end as the first few minutes of the journey turned into hours. _The eagle will come with fire._ The words echoed through his mind. He had yet to determine what the Cheyenne meant, and that added even more to his sense of dread.

"Is everything alright?" Finnegan asked, though slow, he had finally begun to realize the anxiety that held Sully's body solidly in place. The answer came in a whisper, as if afraid to speak to loudly for the unknown consequences.

"Something's not right."

"What?"

"I don't know."

The caravan started that morning at the bottom of Pine Valley, next to the creek they had been following for the last two days, but as they reached the end of their journey, they separated from the safety of the creek at the base of Bear Mountain. A delicate trail of pressed dirt lined with dead logs and rocks rose from the ground, wrapping itself around the side of the mountain. It would have to be traveled in order to reach the reservation.

At first, the journey wasn't any different from the days before. The path was at a low enough gradient that they could move independently. However, the higher they got, the slower they moved. Some of the soldiers had to dismount in order to help the wagon over inclines, forcing those who were riding in the wagon to line behind the horses. As they got to the wide places on the path, they allowed the horses to rest.

Two-thirds of the way up, Sully found himself standing on a rock facing, jutting out of the sturdy ground. From his position, he could see through a clearing in the trees. He could see the arching curves of the mountains, rising and falling along the earth like a serpent coiling through the water. In the far distance, where the base of three mountains converged, he could see the glistening shimmer of a lake, fed by the creek that they had followed so long. Sully knew, though he couldn't see it, that the creek slithered wits way from the lake, cutting through the lowest part of the valley and ran somewhere along the base of the mountain on which he was standing. In moments of silence, when there was no talking from the men or moaning of horse he could hear the crisp water flow over the rocks. The anxiety from the morning coursed through his body, emerging in the simple tick of his thumbnail, strumming against the seam of his buckskins. He had brief moments, when his mind wandered to Michaela and Brian. He could hear Katie's laughter and see her bright smile, but the sound of crumbling rocks and the abruptness of a cool breeze against his skin, brought him back to the present.

"Mr. Sully, are you ready?" James Finnegan asked. He seemed to bounce with the pent up energy that seemed to spark in his mass of bright red hair and travel through his body. In the past few days, Sully realized that the boy never settled down, he seemed to stare at the world around him with an amazed awe. Sully wondered if this was the first time the boy had ever been away from home at all. 'Did you see that Mr. Sully?' 'What's that used for?' 'How long did it take you to learn Cheyenne?' Finnegan's questions seemed endless, and Sully patiently answered each one of them.

Turning from his view, he forced a smile, eyes not neglecting to scan the horizon of the mountain. Finnegan swung on top of his mount, "They said the next stop is the last before we cross. They have enough water to do us, 'til we get to the reservation. I heard we'll be there by five." While Finnegan spoke, Sully strolled toward Mags, and, picking up the saddle packs from the ground, began to load the packs once more. His hand, after finishing the last adjustment to the saddle, lingered along the course hair of Mags' neck, soothingly stroking at her mane, a comforting motion more for him than the horse.

"That's good, the sooner we get…" Sully stopped suddenly, his head shifting to the side. It looked as though his ears had visibly perked and he stood now listening intently as a wolf listens to the footsteps of an enemy.

"Mr…" Sully cut Finnegan off with the wave of his hand. Had he imagined it? Yet, as soon as he began to doubt, the clear sharpened call rang through the trees and he knew that he wasn't imagining at all. In the far distance, Sully could hear an eagle call, strong and steady. Now the only question was if the call were real or…

Sully didn't have the chance to process what was happening as the sound of rustling leaves zipping closer and stopping ended with the sudden gasp of a nearby soldier on horseback. Slouching forward, Sully watched as the man tumbled from his horse, making no effort to catch himself as he hit the ground. He felt the jerk of Mags under his hand as she reacted to another soldier falling from his mount and landing in a heap at her feet. Sheer instinct made Sully reach up, and grabbing the young man by the collar, pulled Finnegan from his horse, dragging him between their animals and throwing him against the side of the mountain, crouching in the shelter of the horses.

"What was that?" Finnegan gasped suddenly, struggling to stand from their cover.

"Don't move." Sully spat, yanking the chaplain back to the ground, his eyes never lifted from their fierce gaze, searching between the legs of the beasts for any sign of movement. Two shots had been fired and in the seconds following there was nothing but the intense stillness that descended on the men as they waited and watched for what would come next. They knew nothing. They had no idea who it was attacking them or what direction they were hiding. As the seconds grew into minutes several of the soldier began to relax; it was an angry statement, they said. The enemy must be gone. Finnegan tried to rise with the rest of them, but the tightening fist around his arm prevented him from moving far. Only Sully knew that the moments of silence were not empty. They were pregnant with the intention of the seconds that lay ahead.

Swiftly, Sully's hand shot out, fumbling through the overcoat of the fallen man lying before him, slipping into the holster strapped to the dead man's hip. Sully pressed the retrieved pistol into Finnegan's chest. "Ya stay low; don't let 'em see where ya are. Only use it if ya need to. Don't try ta aim at any of 'em. Don't waist ya bullets. When there's an openin', slip up the mountain an' run, don' stop." Finnegan sat speechless, quietly absorbing his orders. The quiet tension that pulled taunt through Sully's voice seeped into his own person, sending chills running over his body. His hand shakily cradled the pistol in his hand, and Sully did not miss the terror in the boy's eyes. "I'll be followin' ya," he said with a quick nod of his head. For the second time that day, his mind flashed back to the family he left at home with the promise to return in a week. For the first time, he considered the fact that he might not be able to keep his word.

The war cry screeched through the air as if on cue, not surprising Sully at all as the retaliation jolted back against the charging enemy as they rushed the edge of the mountain from below. The instantaneous crackle of gunfire rippled through the valley as man met man in a clash of gunpowder and blades.

Sliding against the side of the rock facing, Sully could get glimpses of the painted faces, twisted into vicious cries and he knew instantly that the men were dog soldier, a blend of tribes once considered enemies of one another. Now, they combined their force to battle the enemy common to them all, the white man. They were here to set the white man's prisoners free.

Man by man threw down their ropes and slid from their confinement, reaching for the weapons closest to them. One of the Cheyenne reached behind a soldier who had just killed another prisoner and cracked his skull with a rock. Another soldier was locked in an physical battle with a dog soldier that sent them both rolling across the rocky dirt until the Indian was pitched over the side of the cliff, leaving the soldier to be shot by his enemy's comrade.

As Sully moved further down the path, protected between the mountain on his right and horses on his left (and ever conscious of Finnegan's shaking body, following, clutching the pistol to his chest as his only means of survival) he became aware of a pair clothed feet, following along the opposite side. Step-by-step the Indian match Sully's movements, waiting for the moment to pounce. He found it in a break between the beasts. Jutting his rifle into the gap at the last minute and preparing to fire, he was surprised to find the rifle wrenched from his grasp. Sully, gripping the weapon around the muzzle, jerked it away at such an angle that propelled the butt of the gun around, turning it into a weapon of a different kind. Wood hit skull and the dog soldier dropped to the ground.

"Now!" Sully cried, and James Finnegan shot up through the trees of the forest, his hair blazing like fire.

Finnegan had never experienced anything like this before. He had moved straight from his training to the field. He had never heard gunfire before today, and now it seemed impossible to believe that he was running through the trees, dodging twigs and logs- running for his life when he never realized that he was truly putting it at stake. He was the chaplain for Heaven's sake! He was suppose to preach the Good Word and save lives, not find himself between the choice of taking a life or losing his own.

A bullet ripped through the trees, lodging itself into a tree near him and shocking him into a stumble. He tripped over a log. Struggling to his feet, he looked something like a young fawn trying to learn how to walk for the first time. His legs sprawled wide, seeking traction against the dewy leaves.

Not far away, two feet came to plant, spread apart as if ready for motion, but knowing that no motion was necessary. Finnegan struggled to calm his feet long enough to raise his head from where his face was buried in the earth. Raging River stood, watching, saying nothing but not needing words to speak his mind for him. James Finnegan knew that he was going to die soon.

Reaching out with a shaky hand, he grasped the pistol tightly in his palm and, squeezing the trigger, sent two bullets flying in the Indian's direction. As the Cheyenne recovered, Finnegan recaptured his footing and found himself once more tearing through the trees, no longer caring if the branches slashed him in the face. Then, suddenly, he stopped.

Finnegan burst through to a clearing and fell to his knees. His hands came into contact with solid sandstone, flesh on rock. There was no longer any forest; there was no longer any earth, and mere inches from his hands, there was no longer any rock. He could see to the valley below and the peaks above; he was standing on the open side of the mountain and there was nowhere to go.

In shear disbelief, Finnegan turned over, facing his opponent who halted mere feet from him. There was no running or hiding.

"Our Father which art in Heaven…" Finnegan's rhythmic muttering sounded under his breath as Raging River, knife in hand, prepared for the final blow…, and was stopped.

A hand on the Indian's shoulder forced him to turn, moving into contact with a fist that sent him hurtling to the ground. Sully stood in the place of the Cheyenne, shoulders hunched forward, crouching low. His eyes trained on the Indian as Raging River reclaimed his feet and matched his opponent's pose.

"Get outta here." Sully order, refusing to lift his eyes from Raging River's fiery stare. Not needing any more provocation, Finnegan shot to his feet and disappeared into the green brush leaving Raging River and Sully alone.

"Do you feel that?" The precise syllables of the Indian's English came crisp and clear, betraying his knowledge of the language. "It is the heat of the fire." He sneered, and running forward crashed into Sully's body, sending them both crumpling to the ground.

Sully felt pain spread across his face, and he retaliated, sending every ounce of his strength surging upward through his fist and coming into contact with the Indian's jaw. He kneed the Cheyenne in the gut, buying him time to roll out from underneath his enemy and struggling to his feet, but he wasn't quick enough and Raging River caught him in the back, dragging them both down once more. An arm snuck around his neck, and in the struggle to breathe Sully could see dots of yellow blurring his eyes. Bucking forward he managed to flip Raging River over his shoulder, and directly into arms reach of the rifle.

Sully never knew what hit him. He never realized that the object swinging toward him was the butt of a rifle, and he never registered that he needed to duck. What he did see was the vibrant strands of Michaela's hair, glistening in the May sun, flying along the wind as she raced down the trail to their home. He heard her laughter, and then he heard the crack of the rifle against his own skull before all went black.

It would be another day before the men were missed and another two before anyone decided to search for them. Toward the bottom of the mountain, far below where he should have been, lay Sully, but no one would come for him. No one would find him like the others. The leaves and the logs of the forest would cover his body. No one would ever be able to discover what happened to him.

* * *

There's the prologue. I hope you enjoy the story. I'm really looking forward to writing it for you. If you haven't seen it, my friend Gemma made an amazing trailer for this fic. You can see it here: .com/watch?v=o2UgZjp-LKU&feature=channel_page Let me know if you have problems with the link!


	2. Like the Seagulls

The Shroud Unwoven

Chapter 1: Like the Seagulls

_Chapter 2- "And Telemachos threw his arms around his noble father and burst into tears. They sat throbbing and shaking in the relief from that long strain, like a pair of seagulls robbed of their young before they are feathered, who quiver and shake as they utter their shrill cries. So they would have remained until the sun went down, but Telemachos suddenly said to his father: 'What ship brought you to Ithaca, my dear father?'_

January 1874

The fluffy grey clouds hung low in the Colorado sky, teasing the possibility of a snow that would never fall. The emptiness of the promise, of the possibility, felt even worse in the heavily chilled air. Nothing seemed to move on this particular morning: the wind didn't blow, the leaves didn't rustle, and the birds didn't sing. It was as if the world waited with baited breath for something yet unstated.

Michaela stood on the platform at the train station. She was, as always, pulled straight and tall, making full use of her entire height. Her hand was lifted to her eyes, shielding them against the dull grey rays that lit up the sky as she stared in quiet observation at the feathery cotton that dotted the sky. She was the lone figure, standing still on the platform as the busyness of town bustled around her. Men and women boarding the train to her left, wagons driving through the street, it all went unnoticed by Michaela as she examined the heavens.

Behind her, Matthew Cooper stepped out of the ticket office and placed his slouch hat back onto his head. He was wearing a simple black suit with a plain off white cotton shirt beneath, simple and yet professional. His boots clicked in rhythm to his steps as he moved across the platform in his usually rigid manner. His eyes focused entirely on his ma as he moved in her direction, the thin ticket threading in and out of fingers.

A soft hand at her back brought Michaela from her thoughts, and she, dropping her hand, turned to see her oldest son smiling sadly at her. "Did you get the ticket?" She asked, trying to brighten her voice in hopes of banishing the cloudy look of worry in Matthew's eyes.

"Yea…" He held the paper out as proof.

"Good." The corners of her lips curled into a tight smile as she reached out and straightened the lapel of his jacked, smoothing the fabric under her fingers. "Are you certain that you shouldn't take your fur lined overcoat?"

"My wool will be plenty." He stopped her hands against his chest, "I promise." Their eyes connected and Michaela recognized the futility of her effort. She saw nothing but complete understanding, of not being fooled by her charade. Her attempt to make him calmer by her own confidence did nothing. Slowly her face returned to the usual muted expression that she usually carried. The smile dropped from her face, and her eyes, as if by magic, shifted from a sparkling ease to a dull acknowledgement of her own nervousness. Cupping his hands around her own, feeling the icy chill that ran through her fingers, Matthew lowered his head. "It's going to be ok. I'm going to fix this."

A deep breath, "I'm ready for this to be over. It's been too long."

Matthew nodded solemnly. It had been nearly two years since Sully rode off with the army, taking several of the Cheyenne Warriors to Wilm's Creek. It had been a little over a year since he watched his adopted mother sit with his younger brother and sister and try to explain that there was nothing more they could do. The search was over; their pa would not be coming home. The past two years had been filled with sleepless nights, tears, and loneliness. There had been constant reminders that filled his days, reminders that brought him back to the man who he had idolized growing up. "I can't help it Matthew. Every time I think 'bout goin' fishin' or go to the barn, I think of Sully," Brian had confided in him, during one of their rides into town.

Yet, the tears and pain seemed to belong to them alone. Though he knew it to be entirely untrue, he could count on one hand the times he saw tears flow from the familiar green brown eyes. Despite his efforts to be the steady pillar that Michaela could lean on, he watched as she staggered away from all structures, straddling the edges of the path she travelled. Slowly she once again lifted the burden to be both mother and father for her children. She of all people needed the journey that the past few years had brought her through to be over. She needed to be able to go on without the constant reminder of what she was living without, of how life once was, and yet Matthew knew that that would never be an option for his ma. The best he could do for her now was to follow behind as she forged bravely ahead, blocking herself from any more hurt whatever, or whoever may cause it.

With a gentle embrace, Matthew enveloped the strongest person he had ever met, the one woman that he would forever be in awe of. Straightening, once more, he thrust his chin out toward the train, acknowledging the whistle as it bellowed from the engine. "The trial'll be up and runnin' sometime this week. You know I'll send word, let ya know how things are goin'." Michaela nodded wordlessly. "Tell Brian he's the man of the house for the next few days." Her eyes glazed slightly, recognizing the words as the last Sully had uttered to Brian, and then faded. The pain no longer seemed permanent but came in waves of debilitating agony, striking randomly and consuming her so fiercely that she could barely breathe. Michaela found that life was more manageable if she kept her emotions at an arm's length, allowing herself only to feel the very tip of what it was that brewed inside of her.

A rush of steam rushed forth, bellowing out from the engine and the screech of the whistle announced the last chance for boarders. "Be careful," the corner of Michaela's mouth tugged up in a smile of concern that flooded all the way into her eyes. Matthew merely nodded, patting her firmly on the shoulder before reaching for the leather parcel standing at their feet. The trail broke free from the station, gliding off into the distance.

"Michaela? Oh, Michaela!" The familiar coo could be heard floating toward the edge of the platform. Michaela smiled softly.

"Dorothy, good morning." She moved to the edge of the platform, meeting her friend on the steps. "Are you doing all right this morning?"

"Oh yes, I'm fine. I think it's me who should be askin' you if you're all right." Her voice fell lower in quiet understanding, "did Matthew leave on the train?"

Michaela turned; the smoke of the engine was barely visible over the tree line now, "Yes." She turned back to two, compassionate eyes.

"He'll be back before you realize he left."

"I hope so."

"How are you Michaela?" The question repeated itself, this time waiting quietly for an answer.

Michaela tried to look away. Her eyes scanned to the rooftops, singling in on the center of the Mercantile before slipping back to consider her friend from the corner of her eye. "I'm alright." Her chest felt as if it were caving in. Dorothy's lips pursed, her eyes watchful, as if trying to determine for herself whether the words spoken were true. Michaela sighed, "It's an ok day."

"Just ok?"

"There have been better," then a faint smile. "There have been worse." An arm slipped around her back.

"Well, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. Grace and I were hoping you would join us for lunch."

A small smile gleamed on Michaela's face as the numbness took over, and she forced herself to thank Heaven for her friends. They had helped her more in the past two years than anyone else had. Taking a deep breath, she felt the constant pressure lessen somewhat against her chest. "I think that would be nice."

* * *

The sun was becoming unbearable. The constant throb through his temple increased by each step, exhausting his body in the process. Sully fought the urge to drop onto the nearest bench and close his eyes, if only for a few seconds. It was everything he could do to keep them open.

His gate had slowed considerably since this morning, the energy seemed to slowly fall from his body. By the time he found himself walking through town his usually strong and purposeful gate was slurred. His head hung on to fallen shoulder, and his upper body slumped forward in hopes of relieving the pressure on his aching back. His physical body was exhausted, and yet inside he had never felt so much energy. His heart beat so hard he thought it would burst through his chest. He had never seen such a beautiful sight as when he crest the closest hill and realized that he could see Denver, only a few more steps and this leg of the journey would be over. He was a step closer to home.

Sully stumbled into the train station and dropped onto the nearest bench, head falling into his hands. The shade felt good against his red tinted skin. It was difficult to think, nearly impossible around the intense pressure in his forehead. A stray finger slid up the side of his face, feeling the raised mark of a scar that lined from just above his eyebrow to the top of his cheek before disappearing into his hairline. The digit moved inch-by-inch pressing against the rise and feeling the relief in his head for a few seconds before reemerging.

_Ok, I'm here. What's next?_ His mind struggled through the mud before settling on the beautiful face that filled his dreams. _Michaela._ Fumbling through the pockets of the brown woolen work pants he was wearing, he managed to pull out a handful of coins and count them quickly in his palm. His heart fell slightly when he realized that there would not be enough to buy a train ticket and send a telegram. He didn't know what he wanted to do more, send word, anything home to let Michaela know that he was alive and here, and that he would be coming home, or see her in person and watch her face when she realized that he was truly standing before her. He stared blankly at the coins, trying to make a decision as the station filled with the ruckus and screeching of a new train stopping on the tracks. The rush of people leaving the train crowded the platform, distracting Sully from his thinking as he lifted his head to examine the passengers.

The people were blank faces, moving back and forth across the station in their own way. Some carried bags, some traveled with family. A few of the passengers walked off the train and into the warm embrace of a family member; Sully felt his chest tighten. How he longed to see Michaela! He dreamed of the day he could walk off the train into her arms and pull her close to him. He would never let her go again; he would never walk away. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to conjure her image one his own, but it always seemed that in the moments he craved to see her the most, her face blurred before his eyes, just out of reach to him.

At the other end of the platform, a figure dressed all in black ducked from the compartment, stepping down onto the hard wooden surface before placing his hat on his head. The figure was of average height, with broad, sturdy shoulders. Around his neck hung a leather medicine pouch. It was something as slight as the sway of the shoulders when the unknown man walked that first peaked Sully's attention. Then, as the man turned just enough so that Sully could determine the man's silhouette, and he felt his heart jump. Could it possibly be?

Rising to his feet, exhaustion melting, Sully found himself threading through people, eyes watching the figure intently as it retreated before him. As the man got smaller and smaller before him, panic rose in Sully's chest.

"Matthew!" His voice carried, and he watched at the figure before him stopped, and turned. "Matthew!" Sully saw the familiar face look toward him, right at him and continue without acknowledging who he'd seen. Thrusting his way further through the crowd, Sully finally pulled out before him, grasping Matthew, who had turned away, around the arm.

When Matthew turned to see who grasped him, he found himself staring into the face of a ghost.

* * *

Matthew watched in silence as the waiter lifted the water glass from his tray and placed it directly in front of him, leaving ripples shimmering across the top of the liquid. The was no sound in the room, except the clang of silver on porcelain that echoed from the tables, but Matthew didn't hear that. He couldn't hear anything but the sound of his own breaths coming at steady intervals. His body felt light, as if he were merely floating through time without interacting with anything around him. Slowly, Matthew reached out, grasped the water glass and took a sip, feeling the cold fluid glide down his throat. He replaced the glass and lowered his head to see the empty dinner plate sitting before him. He took the last piece of bread and popped it into his mouth before looking back up to the once familiar man sitting across from him.

Sully sat slumping slightly over the table, his body showing the obvious signs of physical exhaustion. The plate before him lay completely cleaned of every morsel, and Matthew had to wonder when the last time the man before him had eaten a true meal. The usual sandy brown curls hung longer than they used to, scraping below the shoulder line and a dense beard clung to his cheeks and chin. A long scar dotted the side of his face, but the biggest change Matthew recognized was the years of strain that clung to his friend's face in wrinkles and weariness. The once bright, shimmering blueness of his eyes melted to a dull searching. Matthew thought that the man before him, the man he used to admire and hoped to emulate had all but been drained of life. Yet, the worn and tired man had seemed to change before his very eyes as their meal began and by the time they were finished Sully sat, elbows on table, staring anxiously at Matthew, yearning for details. Though his body was still tired, his mind was more than replenished now the headache had retreated into a dull thump.

"Tell me, tell me everything Matthew." The quiet plea was the first words spoken between the two men since they left the train station, both of them being too shocked to understand their own reality.

"You're not supposed to be here. You're supposed to be dead!" Matthew managed to choke out in a hoarse voice, explaining his inability to grasp that his adopted father sat before him, fully alive and healthy. "They said that everyone was killed, but we didn't believe it. We searched and searched for you. Dr. Mike wouldn't let us give up, but you were never there. The best we got was the army report saying that you must have been killed off the trail, running from the army like a coward." Tears of frustration sprung to Matthew's eyes as he began to remember aloud the months after Sully's disappearance. He could remember every day of the searching, the endless nights. His ma's discouraged face, near the brink of tears would forever be burned into his memory, and he could see it now as he talked, his words bringing back the reality of the past two years.

The last of what Matthew said faded away under the mention of Michaela. It was the one question that Sully wanted to ask more than anything. How would he ever be able to put back together all the time that was lost? Was it even still possible? "How's your ma?" Sully leaned over slightly, his worried eyes pleading Matthew to tell him that all was well, that she had survived the time apart and was still waiting on his return. Matthew seemed to laugh bitterly, a chuckle rolling forward and bursting from his chest.

"She's Dr. Mike. She's the strongest person I've ever met." It was all that needed to be said, the recognition of what it took for her to make it through the hopelessness that consumed her, and that promise that she _had_ made it. "What happened, Sully? Where have you been?" His voice held a pained undertone, a tone fighting not to become judgmental, but failing.

"Matthew I have done everything I could to get back to you."

"It's been two years!" His voice rose louder.

"I know…"

"Do you know what kind of hell we've been through in that time? Can you imagine what Dr. Mike went through, is still going through? What about Brian and Katie? Have you thought of them?" Matthew's chest jutted sharply out over the top of his plate. He clutched mindlessly at the edge of the table with one hand while the other stretched flat across the tablecloth.

"Matthew..." The soft voice that Matthew was so familiar with, preparing to give gentle council, eased the tension in his body, and he realized the first time the anger that had been harboring all this time. Slowly, he forced his body to relax. There wasn't any point blaming without first hearing the story, and somewhere deep inside of him, Matthew knew that his father would never have done this on purpose, but that knowledge hadn't saved them the pain.

"What happened?" His voice croaked, tears making it impossible to speak. "What happened out on that mountain?" Matthew watched as Sully's eyes faded from the present, staring into space, but flashing and reacting to a sight that only he could see.

"I woke up on the forest floor….

"**Sully, Sully wake up." Sully struggled to open his eyes, catching tiny glimpses of a feminine figure leaning over him, showering him with a soft scent he couldn't name. "Sully." He felt two hands shake his arms, and let out a loud moan. It hurt to breathe. "Sully."**

"'**Chaela," his voice emerged in a squeak, betraying his pain. **

"**Yes, it's me." He could hear her voice close to his ear; feel her breath on his cheek. "I'm here, it's all right."**

" '**Chaela," he struggled for another breath. **

"**I need you to get up, Sully," her voice hummed. "I need you to come home to me." He could feel her soft kiss on his cheek, and lifted his hand in hopes of reaching for her. His eyes remaining closed. He felt for her, lifting his hand higher and higher, but his hand met nothing but air. "I need you to come home."**

**Sully forced his eyes open and saw nothing but the clear blue sky filtering in through the trees. **

"… I think I musta fallen from where we fought. There whaten any one 'round. I don't know how long I'd been out. All I knew was that my head hurt and I had ta think 'bout breathin'. I knew I needed ta get outta there. Didn't know if any of the Dog Soldiers were still around, so I started movin' as best I could. I don't know how long it took me ta get down. I would start crawlin' and then realize that I'd stopped. It rained several days, an' just as I got ta the bottom of the mountain, I thought I heard singin'. I thought I was goin' crazy, but as I kept movin' the singin' got louder…"

**Sully, body beaten and exhausted, stumbled into the clearing, falling to his knees out of breath and heaving. The crystal glistening sound of water flowing over the river rocks was the only sound that entered his mind and he could think of nothing but water. He hadn't had a drink in four days. **

**Sully neglected to realize that he wasn't the only person at the creek, but he was noticed as several Lakota woman stared at the white man with wide eyes. Quietly, they backed away from the water, watching as the man dressed in buckskins and a torn and bloodied cotton shirt crawled his way to the water, slurping eagerly at the cool liquid. **

**The Indian women glanced among themselves, searching for anyone who knew what to do. Their eyes shifted from the wet clothes, drying on rocks in the stream to the man who had since collapsed. Suddenly a young maiden stepped from the group, staring silently at each of the women, meeting their gaze as she tiptoed her way to Sully. Kneeling softly beside him, she placed a hand at his neck. She glanced up and, with a nod, signaled the women to join her. This man would do them no harm. **

"… They worked to heal me, takin' me with 'em when they moved camp. They had ta keep goin' or the army'd find 'em. I don't remember the first moths…

**Sully lay motionless in an enclosed tepee. To his right lay a smoldering rock, steaming from a mixture of heat and water. Ringlets of sweat beaded across his forehead, his cheeks and neck, the tops of his arm and dotted the rise and falls of his chest. Each breath he took a fresh drop rolled down his side, sliding to the blanket lying under him. His lower chest was wrapped tightly in place and a plaster packed his head. Fading bruises of black and deep purple dotted his body and neck. His breaths came in tight gasps. **

"**Sully…" His hand lifted instantly, recognizing the voice, but unable to open his eyes. "I'm here." He felt the gentle pressure of Michaela's hand against his and then the gentle elongation of her body pressing against him. Turning his head to the side, he managed to open his eyes just enough to force a smile in her direction. **

… I began to wake up, ta have more time awake than sleepin' and realized what happened. There whaten anythin' I wanted more than ta get back to your ma and Brian, Katie, but I still couldn move an' the more I talked to the people 'round me, I realized that we were in North Dakota. By January, I was ready ta come home. I could walk and fend for myself, but I couldn get outta camp until the winter snow thawed. I left the band in May." Sully's eyes dropped instantly and he picked at a seam in the tablecloth. "Found out later that the encampment had been ambushed not long after I left. There whaten anybody left alive." A heavy silence fell between the two men. Matthew, slowly tried to absorb everything he was being told. The able body sitting across from him hardly looked like he had been completely incapable of sustaining his own life a year ago, and yet the physical pain had long etched itself into the corner of Sully's eyes and his mouth.

Sully took another sip of water before starting again. "At first, I had food an' water, but there was another cold snap 'round late May. I couldn't find food, anywhere. I made it down ta South Dakota, but I found myself with no food. Got as far as Deadwood, an' had ta stop, work some jobs. I would travel when I could, an' stop when I needed more money. I made it ta north Colorado 'fore the winter snow an' got caught in the first freeze. A man found me collapsed in the forest an' took me in….

**The air was frigid against the early morning freeze. Each step the hunter took crackled under his foot. His breath bubbled from his mouth in a visible puff, tracking the steady rhythm of his breathing as the physical exertion of being in the open began to pump blood through his veins. He clutched a rifle tightly in front of him; his eyes steadily trained on the fresh deer tracks right before him.**

**In the corner of his eye, he saw the scattering run of the deer he had been pursuing and in a flash, he was racing through the forest, trees by passing him left and right. He jumped over logs with a single bound, eyes trained on the trail of leaves that flew from behind as the animal dodged trees. Finally, coming to a clearing, the hunter dropped to one knee, raising his rifle to his shoulder and, pulling the trigger, sent a bullet ripping through the air. The deer scampered into the forest. **

**Standing disappointedly, the hunter dropped his rifle to his side. His eyes scanned the horizon, and widened with shock. At the other end of the clearing, lay a man covered in ice. It was Sully. **

… I decided the last of December, after stayin' put for a few weeks that it was time ta move on. I made it ta Denver today." Sully finished his story and sat in silence, staring down at his hands that now lay flat against the table. He didn't look up, or move to meet Matthew's gaze. He simply sat there.

Matthew too, sat in silence, his mind tracing over the past two years and what it had been like in Colorado Springs. He hadn't thought about what those years had been like Sully; he hadn't needed to, until three hours ago, Sully had been dead. Now, he found himself sitting across from a ghost, realizing just how much things had happened in the past two years.

"Brian's finishing up school this year." He started quietly; Sully's eyes raised from his hands eagerly absorbing what Matthew had just told him.

"Really?"

"Yea, he and Dr. Mike've been talkin' about schools. Colleen married Andrew Cook almost a year ago, an' Cloud Dancin' left to live on a reservation north of town that wasn't too long after you left." His voice fell away as he saw the dazed look overcome Sully. So many big things had happened over the years and try as he might to come home, he had missed two years of family's life.

"What about you?"

"I went ta law school. That's why I'm in Denver. I'm workin' on a case."

"Whose?"

"Yours." Sully's face fell.

"What? What do you mean _mine_?"

"They're trying you for treason. They say that you planned the attack on the army in order to free the Cheyenne. They say that was why you ran, but one of the soldiers must have followed you."

Sully's voice raised in frustration, "can they do that?"

"If they think they can win the case."

"And what happens if they say I'm guilty." Sully watched as Matthew took a deep breath, trying to decide how much to tell.

"They can take everything that has your name on it, includin' the homestead." Sully's hand tightened on the base of his glass so that Matthew thought the material would shatter.

"How's your ma handlin' this?"

"She's fightin' it ever step of the way, but I think she's in over her head. One of the attorneys for the army has been botherin' her for months now, trying to make plea deals left and right. He's got a group of soldiers and he's all the time comin' in and out, tellin' her things that may or may not be true." Suddenly his tone shifted from a professional detachment to a protective son, "I don't like it Sully. I don't like the way he looks at her. It took me a long time to decide to leave her out there alone."

Sully's head dropped to his hands in a groan, "It's all my fault."

"No its not."

"If I hadn't left…"

"You had no idea what was going to happen."

"I need ta leave. I need ta get home to them." Placing both hands on the table, he moved to lift himself from his seat. Matthew, grabbing him by the arm, pulled him back down.

"Sully, it ain't a good idea for ya to go walkin inta town."

"I can't just leave them out there!" For the first time, anger bubbled unabashedly to the surface, throwing his arm out and he leaned across the table.

"If Shelton Howard realizes that you're alive, there's no telling what he'll do to you, all of which will probably end in him killin' ya. If he wants the homestead and…" he could bring himself to say what they both were thinking, "… if he wants it bad enough he'll think nothin' of killin' ya."

"So what? I stay here and let them fend for themselves."

"Sully if you go back you and everyone who knows who you are will be in danger. Howard will want to take care of this as quietly as possible."

Sully just stared at him blankly. He felt the pressure of his situation clamp down on him, and yet he knew that he really had no option. He had to get to Colorado Springs, and quickly. Leaning across the table, he clasped his hands together, eyes dark and serious. "Then I have a plan."

* * *

There's chapter two. Let me know what you're thinking! Are you enjoying it? I hope so!


	3. Disguised

**Chapter 2**

**Disguised**

_-"He lay on his native soil, and knew it not, Since he had been long absent, For Pallas Athena herself, that divine daughter of Zeus, had covered the place with mist that she tell him everything first and disguise him."-_

A lone man sits quietly on the train, staring quietly out the window as the curves of the majestic mountains rise and fall in rapid succession. It's interesting how things progress without anyone ever realizing it. Ten years ago the trip between Denver and Colorado Springs would have taken nearly a day, now it was a mere hours. Man could now travel faster than he would ever be capable of conceiving on his own. Man now had the help of machine and together they were conquering the world, to the destruction of other men.

The train rushed across its tracks, bellowing the anticipation of reaching its destination on time. Outside, the telegraph wire ran, dutifully following the path of it iron companion, never tiring. The rigid poles appeared at steady intervals announcing their arrival and disappearance with a _whoosh_. The man simply watched them come and go, his hand, lying against the windowsill, tapping a beat between poles with his thumbnail.

The lone traveler was reclined in his seat, his long legs stretched so that they straightened under the bench before him. He wore a pair of woolen work pants, patched time and again with fresh holes wearing in at the knees. His blue flannel work shirt hung loosely from his frame, hiding a sturdy and strong frame, his worn suspenders, the only thing that betrayed his true shape. The features of his face were severely contorted by a thick beard, the lines of his jaw and lower face covering his mouth and cheeks in a dense layer of honeyed fuzz. Hair, matching the same shade that clung to his chin was wrapped and folded underneath the brim of a slouch hat; the edges of a bandana, tied around the main, sticking out at the corners. Just above his eyebrow started a thick scar, a physical resemblance of a battle fought… and won. The scar ran the length of the man's face before disappearing into the top edge of his beard. The man sitting on the train was Sully, and he was on his way to Colorado Springs.

* * *

The train jarred to a stop, snapping Sully out of his thoughts. He looked dazedly around the car, eyes scanning, watching people as they collected their bags and coat. His hand too grasped at a ratty leather jacket, as he collected his plan, he had to be entirely certain that nothing would fail and that included being recognized.

As he stepped off the train, Sully felt a pounding in his chest he had never felt before. The only thing vaguely similar he could think of was the day when he didn't step off the train, but onto it, with Michaela in his arms for the first time, the difference was that that day, and night, his heart pumped with excitement and eagerness. Now, it struggled against an anxiety, fear that though a good plan in theory, the only test to its success would be that it worked, and that meant him being able to walk into town unrecognized.

Sully took special recognition of his posture as he made his way from the train station. He stooped his shoulders, lowered his head, and added a subtle limp to his gait, knowing that whatever he decided to add now would have to be continued for the days to come.

Turning from the train station, he angled himself to Main Street, eyes keenly scanning left and right. The Mercantile sat as usual, at the end of the street. It didn't look different from the store that had been sitting there the day he left. There had been several changes to town, though. The Golden Nugget had grown into a larger establishment. The bank had people moving left and right across the boardwalk. Before him, in the distance he could see the tent of Grace's Café, filled as usual with men and women eating their afternoon meals. As he passed, Sully's eyes fell on the familiar sight of Grace at her block, cutting away at carrots and talking to Dorothy, who sat at the nearest table. In the back corner sat not Anthony, but a little boy about one. He looked like Robert E.

Turning his head to look straight before him, Sully was shocked to see that Jake Slicker stood not three feet from him, walking to him. Their eyes locked for an instant before Sully dropped his gaze, unsure of what Jake would do. The mayor continued to walk by, not recognizing who it was he was passing on the street. The fact gave Sully a little more confidence, and yet, Jake's inability to recognize him was only part of the test, he still had the most difficult person to get by- Michaela.

Skirting into the alleyway between two narrow buildings Sully had to slow himself down. His mind retaliated against the treason he was about to commit and yet, he knew that it was for the highest purpose. It was vitally important that Michaela not realize who he was, partly because of her own safety. His presence must not have a chance of putting his family it risk, but also a simpler, more selfish reason prompted his actions. After two years, hiss every dream turned to Michaela, to their bed. His desire to hold her, touch her, kiss her, drove even his basic actions, and now that he was home, that he was to see her, he could not act on his dreams. It would be easier her not knowing who he was.

Standing in the alleyway, his back against the wall, Sully drew in a deep breath. Fumbling into his pockets, he withdrew a small knife and pressed it into his flesh, watching as the red bubbled to the surface. He grimaced against the pain, placing a handkerchief onto his arm and stepping out of the protection of the alley.

The red had dribbled down his arm, threatening to fall from his elbow, before he found a passerby who would talk to him.

"' Xcuse me ma'am, but can ya tell me where the doc is?" The elderly women merely turned and pointed at the sign that had been so familiar to him he rarely read it when he went to the clinic. Now, though, he took pleasure in standing in the street gazing at the words, allowing the words "home" wash over him the first time as he read Michaela's name displayed proudly over the clinic. His eyes dropped, and he turned to look around him before making his way to the clinic door. Hank stood in the doorway of the Golden Nugget behind him, watching the stranger's actions halfheartedly.

_Ring for Doctor_, the sign instructed. Sully pulled the string.

"Come in!" A muffled voice answered. The doorknob was cold and easy to turn. The door swung open on its hinges with a soft squeak.

Michaela stood in a half standing, half-sitting position, her hands pressed firmly on either side of the book she was reading. Sully was captivated. Only now did he realize that his visions, his dreams of her had only maintained a fraction of who she was. What he had known to be the features of her face blurred together no longer as sharp as the true visage. The hair he dreamed of running his fingers through was dull straw compared to the actual radiant caramel that shined in the afternoon sun that flooded the window. He'd forgotten the narrow shoulders and elegant, strong poise that carried her body.

"May I help you?" Her concerned inquiry reminded Sully that he'd yet to speak. He felt his heart pound, as she moved toward him closer. He fought the urge to look directly in her eyes and lifted his arm.

"I… um… I hurt my arm, ma'am. They said that it was you I needed ta see?"

"Yes, of course, please have a seat." Her arm reached out and touched the corner of his elbow, sending chills down his spin.

As Sully settled himself on the exam table, he allowed himself to watch her move around the office. He had been greeted with the usual friendly, concerned tone she spoke to everyone in, but there was something missing. Her eyes lacked the radiance of happiness and passion that was forever present; instead, they dulled in acceptance and contentment. Her mouth did not creep into the usual half crooked grin, but stayed in place, curling slighting into a mutated smile as if it were painful to reach a full expression. Though relaxed, her face seemed to stretch under the weight of an unnamed burden. Yet, none of these characteristics were to be recognized by anyone but him. They were his observations and his alone, because only he could look at her and feel every emotion that coursed through her soul.

"My, how did you manage a laceration like this?" Michaela's brow furrowed as she gently coaxed his arm into her hands and examined the screaming tissue. Sully felt her soft, knowing fingers prodding his skin and felt his entire body tense. Her touch was so innocent, unknowing of who he was. He had been successful on his quest, but he hadn't realized how very difficult it would be to sit this closely to her and be nothing to her, a stranger.

He had spent the train ride determining who it was he wanted to be in Colorado Springs, and so it was all a part of his plan as he sat staring at her blankly, waiting on her to explain her question. He focused all of his attention on his facial expression, certain that he gave nothing away except a look of confusion.

"Cut…" Michaela repeated, adding a little gesture with her hand. It was a quick wave in front of her chest, but it was a gesture she made often when explaining a specific word or illness. Usually, Sully never noticed it. "How did you cut your arm Mr…?"

"Hawking. Sam Hawking."

Her lips softened into a kind acknowledgement, but remained without a smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Dr. Quinn."

"Uh, and ta answer your question, I cut it comin off the train."

"Oh, you've just arrived in town?" She inquired adding, "would you hold this?" She pressed a clean bandage to his arm and walked to the table where her instruments were laid out.

"Yes ma'am, I was out in Oregon searching for gold, but the mine went bust. I'm just tryin' ta get home ta my family now." Sully glanced at Michaela from under his lashes, avoiding direct contact with her eyes. He watched though as the little lines around her eyes relaxed into a look of sympathy. Gingerly, she took his hand back into her grasp.

"These are going to need a few sutures. I'll be as quick as possible." She made the initial stitch, lifting her eyes for a brief second to gage her patient's comfort. Sully flinched, but barely. "How long have you been away from your family?"

Despite his best attempt, Sully's face hardened. "Too long," he whispered sorrowfully, a tone not lost on Michaela. Her heart stung at the regret in the man before him. _Go home, go home to them now while you have the chance_, she wanted to scream at him, but nothing could force the words out. Instead, she just lowered her eyes and focused on her task.

With a quick snip, she finished the sutures and looked up. "That should do it. Will you be staying in town long?"

"For a while, yea."

"I'd like for you to come and see me in two days. I want to make sure that no infection develops."

Sully just nodded, taking a deep breath at the next task before him, hoping that this would work the way he thought it would. "I'm sorry ma'am; I don't have anything ta pay you with. Spent my last dime on the train ticket that brought me here."

"How are you going to get home?"

"I was going to try an' hire myself out doin' some odd jobs."

She nodded, "oh, well you can pay me when you can." Gathering her things, she dropped the needles into the disinfectant.

"Actually ma'am, I think that can be soon. I met a man in Denver. He tole me ta find a Dr. Mike when I got here. Do you know where I can find him?" Sully purposefully made his mistake so simple that Michaela never recognized that he should know her by her nickname.

"I'm Dr. Mike."

"Really? I was a thinkin' that I was lookin' for a man the way Mr. Cooper talked."

"Mr. Cooper," her eyes widened in the common look of a concerned mother.

"Yes, ma'am. I met him in Denver an' we got ta talkin' and when he found out I was coming here he tole me ta find Dr. Mike. He said that ya might need some things 'round the house taken care of."

Michaela frowned. "Mr. Hawking, I'm sorry, but I don't have any extra money to pay you for your work."

Sully lifted his arm, watching as his words crackled her façade. He could see her already trying to find a way to help. "Mr. Cooper said that he'd help me once he got back. Oh," he spoke as if he'd forgotten, "he tole me ta give you this." His hand emerged from his pocket with the leather medicine pouch Matthew always wore around his neck. Michaela's hands instantly shot out and grasped the material, as if she didn't want the man before her holding it; it was so inherently Matthew, but she instantly understood. If Matthew trusted this man, something must have emerged in the time they had spent together.

"There was a storm a few nights ago; my homestead sustained a few minor damages. As I said I can't pay you in money, but I can offer food and shelter." The corner of her mouth lifted slightly with her offer.

Thinking consciously as to how to react, Sully lowered his eyes to the floor, shuffling his feet while inside he felt like sweeping her into his arms and dancing with her. He had always loved her kindness and compassion, and now it was those very traits along with assurance from Matthew, that had saved her the most, though she didn't know it yet. His next question, though he knew to be painful, was necessary for him to know what he was walking into.

"Are you sure your husband wouldn't mind?" Sully had never seen such a look of pain pass across the beautiful face before him. The worst of it was the way in which she attempted to cover it, to hide her emotions, and failed. For a second her eyes flashed to what she was feeling on the inside, before reclaiming the exterior that everyone expected her to hold. Her jaw set and eyes hardened as she stated matter factly, "I've been widowed for nearly two years now." Her eyes lowered to the ground.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

She cleared her throat, pushing all thickness away from her voice and thrusting herself into action. "Yes well, I'll be leaving the clinic in about half an hour. If you'd like to wait, I'll take you out to the homestead and show you what I need help on."

* * *

"I don't think I've ever met a lady doctor before." Sully broke the silence. He sat next to Michaela on the buckboard of the wagon, scooted to the far end, and still aware of her constant presence, moving in rhythm with the motion of the wagon. He didn't watch her, but instead kept his eyes trained on the ever-changing tree line before them, remembering slowly the changing scenery on this long forgotten trip home.

Michaela tapped slightly on the reigns, encouraging the horses up the hill. "When I was a little girl, I would go on calls with my father. I don't remember a time when I didn't want to be a doctor."

Sully lifted his arm with a light and still subdued smile. "You're good at it."After, a beat, "How come you came ta Colorado?"

"After my father died, I had no patients who would see me, and I decided to go where I my services were needed."

"Do you ever regret movin' so far from your family?"

The answer came instantaneously, "never. The most important people in my life came to me after I moved here." The light air in her voice told Sully that she thought specifically of him when she spoke, verbalizing aloud what she had told herself so many times. No matter what happened, she regretted nothing, and yet, her eyes held enough realism that he knew that she could see her children before her.

"Do, ya have any kids Dr. Quinn?" His eyes tightened on the side of her face, catching her when she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

"I have four children." She nodded, the beam of a mother's joy lighting up her voice in a way he hadn't heard all day. "Matthew, whom you met in Denver, is a lawyer here in town. Colleen is back east going to medical school…."

"…Like her ma…" she smiled.

"And Brian is nearly seventeen now. He'll be going away to school within the next year."

"You must be very proud."

"I am. He wants to study journalism. He's been writing for the local Gazette."

"I thought ya said ya had four."

"My youngest is Katie. She'll turn three at the end of May, and she slows down for nothing."

Sully meant to question her, as he found himself unable to wait for the moment he would meet Brian and Katie once more- even if they couldn't know who he was. He wanted to know more, wanted to hear Michaela talk about them with the love that strengthened her voice. He wanted to share her pride in their children. He wanted it so badly it ached in his chest, but as they crested the hill, he found that he no longer had to wait for her stories. He would be there soon enough. In the valley before them, he saw the familiar, sturdy structure that he had built so long ago.

"It's beautiful," he whispered involuntarily, speaking not only of the homestead, but the magical feeling that washed over him whispering to him _home, its home_.

Michaela, mistaking his words for meaning the house itself smiled. "It is." Slapping the reigns against the back of the horses, they began to descend into the valley.

Sully tensed as they reached the bottom of the hill. Before them, scattered on both sides of the road sat several soldiers in blue and their horses. As the wagon pulled into the view, the men began to stand, staring blatantly at them, some with sly smiles cocked across their face. Beside him, Michaela tensed, her hands tightening on the reigns, her knuckles turning white.

As they passed, the men said nothing, though Sully wondered if there might have been some comments made had Michaela been alone. She, though, never glanced from the back of the horse's mane. When they had cleared the block, Sully looked at her expectantly, wanting to ask her what the soldiers were for or if they had been there long, but he knew instantly by her rigid stare to the front that she would disclose no information, and what's more, it was not his place to ask.

When Michaela mentioned the storm that had come through Colorado Springs, a few days before, Sully hadn't realized what she meant when she said that the homestead had been damaged. Limbs had blown in from the small gathering of trees to the side of the house, littering side of their house where it was obvious they had been quickly tossed aside by Michaela to clear the way just enough for her to be able to function until she could find more time to clean up. Shingles over the porch had been blown back and a partial segment of the fence that reached around the barn had been made to be mended temporarily.

"I'm sure you can see some of the things I was speaking of." She spoke, watching his gaze. "Do you think any of it will be too difficult?" He shook his head.

Michaela pulled on the reigns and threw back the break. She climbed from the wagon and unhitched one of the horses. "Let me show you around out here." She led him down to the barn. "The fence that separates the stables from the chicken coop fell. Brian managed to fix it momentarily, but that won't last long." She spoke, motioning over with her hand before disappearing into the barn. Sully was left to look around. Despite the damage, nothing seemed to be abused around the area. The tools appeared to be taken care of properly, the way he had taught Brian. In fact, many of the things he saw had Brian's touch on them, influenced in little things such as how the wood was stacked against the side of the barn.

"Of course the house is up the hill," Michaela appeared in the doorway. "I'll show it to you tonight, but let me show you the barn." Turning, she stepped into the neat and well-kept barn. "There is a loft in the top," she motioned with her hand. "It's rather comfortable up there. That's where you may bed down. There's some hay that will provide some padding and I'll make certain you have enough blankets to keep you warm." She eyed his clothing for a moment, brow narrowing in concern, "I'll see if I can find another coat. It'll get rather cold at night. As far as the work goes, we have many tools around." At the corner of the room, Sully spotted his old toolbox still filled with the tools he had used through the years. His hand slowly reached out and wrapped around the handle of his hammer, feeling the way the wood conformed familiarly to the shape of his hand. It had been the hammer he had built their bed with, he had fixed the exam table in the clinic with, he had used to build the loft above him. "You're welcome to use any of them that you need."Michaela continued, "If there is anything else you need for a job let me know and I'll try to get it for you." She gazed around the room, searching for anything she might have missed. It was moments like this, late in her day when she came to the barn, trying to make a list in her mind of what all needed to be done that she felt the most overwhelmed.

Outside, the front door of the homestead slammed shut and the excited screech, "Mommy!" echoed through the chilled air. Michaela's tense visage relaxed instantly as she turned for the door, Sully feeling his heart thumping in his chest followed closely behind her.

"Good afternoon, my darling." Michaela cooed as she scooped the little girl into her arms and planted a kiss to her cheek.

"I wait for you all day!" Katie declared, nodding her head forcefully with each syllable.

"She's not lyin' either. I couldn't pull her away from the window." Brian came to meet them. After a moment of greetings, Michaela saw his eyes move to the stranger standing with his head bowed behind her.

"Oh, Brian, Katie this is Mr. Hawking. He's going staying with us for a few days and helping with some of the chores around here.

Sully stood on the outside, watching his family near each other, acting through the motions of an end of the day ritual of meeting and speaking of their day. He took several steps back, not wanting Brian to be able to see him too well at first. He was amazed how Brian had grown through the years. The boy had well surpassed the height of his mother and was beginning to fill out the build of a man. Sully watched the way Brian looked back at him; his usual toothy grin of a greeting spread across his face, and reached out to greet him. Sully felt the most intense feeling of pride he had ever felt as he stood there, clasping his son's hand.

"It's nice ta meet ya."

"Mr. Hawking, this is my son Brian and Katie."

Sully then turned his attention to the little blonde creature that sat contently on her ma's hip, a hand playing at the stray locks of her mother's hair. Had Sully tried, he couldn't have pictured a more perfect child. Her rosy lips curled into a mischievous smile and her little nose wrinkled up. She looked to be the spitting image of her mother except for the way the corners of her mouth curled as though she knew a secret and couldn't wait to share, and, of course, the brilliant blue eyes that stared at him.

"Hello Miss." Sully dropped his voice slightly, afraid that if he didn't, he wouldn't be unable to mask his true self, or his emotions. The little girl's arms tightened around her mother's neck, and Sully felt a renewed sense of love for Michaela, who obviously, despite everything was the beacon of security in her young daughter's life.

"Hi." Michaela beamed.

"I'm sorry ta run off like this, but I needed to go an' see Caleb before our project tomorrow." Brian cut in, a soft hand at her back to claim Michaela's attention.

"Yes, I remember you saying that. Take Taffy from the wagon. I'll have dinner ready by six."

Brian smiled, "I'll be back on time." With a nod to Sully, he turned to the barn for a saddle.

Michaela turned back to Sully. "If you'd like to make yourself comfortable down here and come up to the house when you're ready. I must go and start dinner." Katie watched silently as her mother talked, pressing her small finger into Michaela's cheek and watching the skin depress. She smiled in her amusement.

Sully, unable to say anything else just nodded. He watched as Michaela's lips straightened in acceptance. Then she turned to go into the homestead, leaving Sully outside, alone. She never suspected a thing.

* * *

So There's Chapter 2! Thoughts, feelings, opinion? I'd love to hear them. Hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	4. Stranger

**Chapter 3**

**Stranger**

_-"As he entered, his father Odysseus rose from the seat to make room for him, but Telemachos checked him and said, "Stay where you are stranger, we can find another seat in our hut; there's a man here to provide one."-_

The ham landed in the cast iron skillet with a splash sending sparks of grease popping in a loud sizzle. Michaela pushed the meat around forcefully, her mind couldn't have been further away from her task. She gripped the skillet tightly with one hand, flipping the morsel over before dropping the fork off to the side. She sighed, her head turning slightly to see out the window. Something was off.

It was just a feeling, which frustrated her even more. There was something creeping into her mind, that she had yet to pin down, but she had a feeling that it had something to do with the strange man who was now in her barn. She wasn't uncomfortable by his presence, not in a security sense anyway. She trusted very much Matthew's opinion and knew that there must be a reason for him to have sent Mr. Hawking to find her. However, there was something that had been eating at her from the moment Sam Hawking walked into her clinic, it was a feeling that she should be more familiar with the man before her, that she should know him. Yet, that was all but impossible, to her recollection she had never seen him before- at least not that she wanted to remember.

Michaela reached hastily for the pot of vegetables sitting on the stove and, picking it up between her hands, sat the pot down forcefully. The crack echoed through the homestead. Her fingers worked quickly, retrieving the vegetables from the pot and putting them to the side. Her movements were harsh, jarring her upper body with each motion, but her actions were all second nature. Inside, her mind began to travel a dangerous path, dangerous by her standards, and she was unable to stop herself despite the fact that she was screaming on the inside.

Michaela's mind once more drifted to the man down the hill, tracing each event of their day, of his physical features. His clothes hung around his body, making him look frail, something that his persistent limp made worse, but when she had offered, he hadn't allowed her to examine it. Then there was the interesting topic of his face. Try as she might, she couldn't conjure a clear memory of what his face looked like. He was always looking down or to the side, as if he were ashamed of her charity, but she instinctively knew that wasn't the problem, though she didn't have another answer. Whatever it was, there was an undeniable fact that the stranger brought some long lost, long forgotten feeling creeping back.

Michaela froze, eyes widening, hands stopping in mid motion. The feeling surged to the surface, uncovering itself for the inkling of identification to cross to the back of her head. "No," she whispered before the thought had even been completed. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head as if she could dislodge the possibility. She struggled to take a few breaths, biting hard on her lip. _No, this isn't happening. I will not do this again. _She struggled to thrust all her emotions away, burying them at the bottom of her stomach.

"Mommy!" Katie's screech was what pulled her out of her trance, her seconds of horror when the pain of the past two years washed upon her anew, convincing her that all was not over. When Michaela found the ability to move once more, she turned to find Katie, staring wide eyed at the oven, which consequently was smoking around the edges.

"No, no!" Michaela rushed to the oven and reached for the handle, instantly singeing her hand on the hot iron. She flinched, burying her hand in the folds of her skirt for a second in a grimace before she tried again, this time using the apron tied around her waist to protect her delicate skin. Quickly she pulled out a skillet before throwing it to the counter. She found herself looking at cornbread the color of coal.

"Wha' 'appened, Mommy?" Katie appeared at Michaela's side, standing on her tiptoes tugging onto her mommy's skirt for support, trying to get a better look.

Michaela, in an act of defeat wiped her hands, staring at the mess. "Mommy got a little distracted." _I can't do this because it's useless. I can't start searching for him again, believing that I'm going to find him wherever I look. There isn't any hope; I can't pretend there is. _She looked down at Katie and smiled, finding the grounding once more in her purpose for life.

"What's ' disthracted?" The little girl asked, trying the unfamiliar word. Michaela picked her up and settled her on the counter next to the brunt cornbread.

"I wasn't thinking about what I was doing." With that, she gained her usual stamina. She reached an arm out and, with a stab of the fork, flipped the ham over, sending new sparks of grease into the air. "And I burnt the cornbread."

Katie's eyes fell, "we not have bread?"

"Not tonight, I'm sorry." She shifted the skillet over and dumped the contents into the scrap pile.

"Aww." Katie looked at the heap with mournful eyes.

"What? Do you think you'd like to eat that?" Michaela teased slightly, the joy of a chuckle slipping from her tongue for the first time that day, especially when Katie's expression changed from one of sadness to reluctance. She shrugged her arms together and shook her head, a smile settling along her lips. _Sully's smile._

Moving back to the vegetables, Michaela changed the subject from the failed cooking venture. "What was our song this morning?"

"Twinkle, twinkle." She replied, before pulling herself to her knees, "I can finish it! Listen… 'Twinkle, twinkle wittle thtarrr!" Katie started singing as loud as her voice would carry and Michaela couldn't help but allow herself the moment to enjoy her daughter's happiness. "twinkle, twinkle wittle thtarr! How I wonder what you are!" As her song ended, Katie turned to her ma and found a smile.

"That was wonderful!" Michaela hummed, dropping a kiss to the top of Katie's head and placing a carrot in her hand. Suddenly the crack of applause broke their silence, and Michaela whirled to find Sam Hawking standing at the entrance to the kitchen.

"Sorry, I didn' know if I could come in. I knocked, but no one answered."

Michaela made a slight gesture to her ears, "I didn't hear."

"Cause of all the beautiful singin'." His eyes turned gently to Katie, relaying the compliment that made her blush.

"Hi," was all she said, leaning back.

"Please Mr. Hawking have a seat. Dinner will be ready in a short while."

Sully shifted uncomfortably on his feet and gazed at the chair. He had made it through the first part of the day without anyone realizing who he was, and for that, he was thankful. His mind still wandered back to the blockade in the road. Knowing that there was no other homestead out the little path but theirs, it was obvious that the blockade was put up for Michaela, tracking her movements to and from the homestead, as well as the visits of anyone from town. They were watching her moves more closely that Matthew had let on, possibly, than he had even known. Consequently, the moment Sully had been left alone in the barn, he felt himself sinking into the soft hay; his shaking legs unable to support his weight any longer. There was a moment, a ten-minute gap where his mind couldn't grasp it all. It was all too much, to see Michaela so tired and strained. Brian was getting older, and Sully could only imagine what he was going through being thrust into the role of man of the house despite Michaela's attempt to protect what was left of his childhood. Sully knew his son well, and he knew that Brian would be striving harder than ever to take care of his ma and sister. Then there was Katie, so grown and smart. Somewhere during the past two years, she had become a little person, with a personality and sense of humor, and Sully didn't know her. It was as if they had never met.

Sully looked around the familiar little kitchen and began to doubt himself. There was no way he could sustain this charade; it would be too difficult always being aware of his movement and words. Now he was in the home he had spent so much time thinking of and he couldn't relax. He had to play stranger to the very people he loved most in the world. Yet, he didn't have an option. His family needed protection, and the only way he was going be successful would be to shut off his feelings, not to allow himself to _feel_ the word 'home.'

"Is everything alright, Mr. Hawking?" Michaela asked, turning from the counter, eyes raised, carefully examining his face. "Is your arm feeling alright?" It wasn't until then that Sully realized his fingers were stroking the soft bandage absentmindedly. A quick second and Sully pressed against the wound slightly, sending a stinging sensation streaking through his arm and grounding him to the present. He refocused and shook his head.

"It's a lovely home ya have here ma'am." Slowly, he dropped into the seat next to him. Michaela's face softened in pride as if to say 'yes, I know.' He saw her acknowledgement of him, her memory shinning in her eyes, and though it left, a film of sadness behind it also radiated her moments of happiness.

"Thank you." She examined his appearance, trying to decipher the look of uncomfortability that tensed his body. "Would you like for me to take your hat?" She offered, hoping her words to be calming at least.

Sully's hand reached to pull down harder on the brim, the flimsy piece of leather was all that protected his mass of hair from sight. "No thank ya ma'am. I prefer to keep it close, old injury." It was all the explanation he needed and Michaela turned back to her task.

Katie, who had been watching Sully from around her mother's torso, tugged on her ma's sleeve. "Who's that?" she whispered in a loud huff, pointing to Michaela's chest, but referring to the man sitting on the other side.

"That's Mr. Hawking. Do you remember him? You met him this afternoon." Thinking, Katie leaned from around her ma's protection, sticking only her head out. Her eyes met the smiling blue sitting at the table and she instantly shot back to her original position. Slowly, she resumed the position, once again meeting Sully's eyes; this time, with a big smile. She did not back away this time when she saw the man watching her, matching her curious stare; instead, she spoke, "Miser 'aw'kin." The man smiled bright at her and she giggled. "I Katie." She said proudly. Michaela, her eyes smiling gently turned to the stove; she didn't look at Sully, though her movement attracted his attention. She simply focused on her task while enjoying her daughter's charming personality.

"I'm glad ta meet ya Miss Katie." The little girl's grin broadened and Sully felt time stop. Those were the first words that he had ever said to her that she understood and she wouldn't know who he truly was. It was the first time in two years that he had made her smile, that familiar smile that she'd had ever since her first giggle. There was no feeling Sully could compare it to, what it felt to know that he could make her laugh and take away all the pain of her world.

Spurred by the stranger's reactions Katie continued, throwing out a finger, "that's Mommy." She exclaimed happily. Sully couldn't help but glance to the end of the finger, watching the slender figure move over the kitchen. He was thankful that Michaela didn't choose that moment to turn around, because he knew in that second there was nothing hidden in his eyes. He allowed himself the second to pretend that it was a normal dinner, that they had all just finished a long day and sought to enjoy each other's time, and then reality came crashing back. "and that…!" Katie started throwing her finger to the other side, "that Woof!" Sully turned in time to see the ever-familiar grey and white animal staring at him from the doorway, head up and tail wagging. There was no mistaking, for Wolf, who the man at the table was; his best friend had come home.

Sully caught him before the animal could have jumped and danced around, before he came to join his companion. Flattening his palm parallel to the ground, Sully made a quick wave by his chair, as if a sign to stop, relax. As quickly as it had appeared, the upcast eyes sank and, letting out a whine, Wolf bowed onto his front paws, as if welcoming master home, secretly.

Suddenly a carrot went soaring through the air landing close enough for Wolf to gobble up. Katie sat now on her knees having scooted closer to the vegetables Michaela left on the counter, a chubby hand pressed to her mouth. She glanced at Sully, her eyes sparkling as if sharing a secret. Slowly she reached for another carrot, now having Wolf's attention, and when she threw it, it was caught mid air.

"Katie!" Michaela's voice rang in shock.

The little girl turned to her eyes wide. "Woof was 'ungry," she tried to explain.

"We'll feed Wolf after dinner like always."

"But 'e 'ungry now." Her eyes tilted in a pout.

Michaela changed gears, not having the energy for an argument and realizing that Katie had done nothing she thought wrong. "Why don't," she started grasping Katie by the hands and lowering her to the ground, "you go play with Wolf in the other room, and I'll call when dinner is ready."

"'Kay!" She agreed, turning to Wolf, "bye!" she exclaimed toward Sully before wrapping her arms around Wolf's neck and pulled him out of the kitchen.

"She's cute." Sully said, watching as Michaela sat the finished plates of ham and vegetables before him at the table. She looked up at him and smiled as she turned for extra plates. Her smile shined against her face, lifting to, but not quite making it to her muteness of her eyes.

"Thank you," she whispered, accepting the compliment as most mothers do. She bubbled with love for the little girl; it was obvious.

"She looks like you."

Her eyes flashed, acknowledging his compliment and its truth before stating simply, "she has a lot of her father in her as well."

"Really?" He decided to push the subject a little.

"Oh yes, her eyes especially. They're a beautiful shade of blue, inquisitive, and nearly impossible to say no to," she chuckled lightly, her laugh holding a faded memory.

"Some a that must be your doin' though. Curiosity's gotta be taught, an' your patient with her." Her lips tightened into a thin line, eyes scanning wildly across the table and Sully could see that this was no longer a subject she wished to discuss.

"Well," she said with a clap of her hands, "I believe we are done here. Now if only…" The front door opened and shut.

"I'm sorry I'm late Ma!" Brian spoke out of breath stepping into the kitchen; he nodded to Sully as a second thought.

"It's all right. I only just finished."

"We got talkin' about our project an' I lost track a time, but we got it finished."

"That's wonderful!" Michaela spoke with interest as she picked up the plate of ham leaving Brian to grab the extra plates and utensils. Sully took the last plate of vegetables, offering himself to be useful. He turned to Brian, "What project are you workin' on, if ya don't mind my askin'."

"I don't mind. I'll tell ya about it over dinner."

Once again, the family was together sharing a meal, only no one realized it. Brian told Sully about his project, explain what it was he was doing in school, and Michaela spoke briefly about her day. Of course, they both asked Sully for his story, and he told them some, not relaying too much. Lies were too prevalent, Sully thought as he told of the mining camp in Oregon. He enjoyed the dinner though, once he got the hang of an altered way of eating, sitting back in his chair and nibbling from time to time. He observed his family, slowly getting familiar with them once more and where his place had been. As difficult as it was, he somehow found contentment, willingness to wait for now, but knowing that he could no longer be without. From now on separation from Michaela, from Brian and Katie was not an option.

It then, felt very ironic when he retreated to the barn after dinner. Once again realizing that his place had not been reclaimed… yet. But as he sat in the loft, leaning as close to the only window opening as possible and watching as each of the lights extinguished one by one, he regretted nothing. He would take his place was watcher once more.

* * *

It was early in the morning. The sun had just risen above the mountains, shedding rays of gold through the valley. Sully woke with a start, unaware as to what it was that actually woke him up, feeling instead, a thick cramp that ran through his neck. He had fallen asleep- unintentionally- next to the opening in the loft. He had positioned himself leaning against the sturdy wall at an angle so that he could still see the homestead. He thought about his family, envisioning them warm in their beds. He wondered about what they were thinking, what they were feeling so late at night.

The crick in his neck ran down through his shoulders. With a groan, he stretched his arms, flexing the strong muscles of his back as he laid over into the hay, straitening his body. It wasn't until after he was settled again that he heard the rustling beneath him, moving this way and that. Unsure of who was in the barn, he crawled flat over the woodened beams, brushing away at the hay so that he could see between the boards.

The glimpse of coppery hair came and went between the slots. The movements were quick and precise, moving across the barn and back again. Then all was quiet. Sully crawled to the edge of the loft so that he could see over. Michaela sat on a stool next to the cow, bent over her hands as the initial sound of milk stinging against the tin pale entered the air, to be followed soon by the splashing of creamy liquid as the pale filled.

Michaela was wearing a simple work dress, worn and faded with time. Her hair, brushed in a hurry, was tied at the base of her neck with a piece of rawhide. The ends were tangled and matted, lying thick against her back. She bent, elbows on knees with quiet hands.

Sully thought about helping her. He lay still and thought back to the night before. What would be he do if Michaela really were a stranger to him? He didn't want to over step his boundaries, to cause suspicion, and, most importantly, he didn't want to scare her. Closing his eyes, Sully rolled over and lay still. He listened to the soothing sound of the milk, feeling the normalcy in such a morning for Michaela. Soon, the milk stopped flowing and the soft rustle of hay appeared as Michaela filled the trough for the cow. A few extra footsteps and all was quiet.

Sully released a deep breath, raising his hand to his scar. Used to, it would have been him who had milked the cow and fed the animals. He rose with the sun to do work before breakfast. Now, without his help, Michaela was left to do twice as much. It was something he hadn't stopped to think of much. He worried about her emotional state, knowing she felt the same ache of separation that he did, only hers was unending, without the promise of hope. He worried about her safety, especially after talking to Matthew, but he had not thought too long on the physical toll his absence had taken on her body. Of course, somewhere deep down he knew it existed, but he'd never seen it in full context. If he had, he'd have been more concerned than he already was.

Sully lay in the loft for another half hour, feeling the tension in his neck slowly fade as he lay in a straight line. He tried to rise at the sound of a stray horse, galloping down the dirt path reached him in the barn, but by the time he righted himself and got back to the small window there was no rider to be seen. Instead, Brian was walking down the hill, bag in hand and eating an apple.

Sully pulled his jacket on and was climbing down the ladder when Brian entered.

"Hi Mister Hawking." Brian spoke, stopping in the door way as if startled. He hadn't remembered the other man's presence. His face didn't change though; it still held the light smile of excitement, or anticipation for the day to come. It was refreshing to Sully.

"Do you go ta school this early?" Sully asked, dropping his head down to look at the sun light streaming through the door.

Brian's smile widened, as he moved further into the barn, "not normally. I promised ta meet with Caleb 'fore school and help him move our project. His ma said she'd have breakfast for us." With a quick motion, he dropped a blanket on Taffy's back and covering it with a saddle. "But ma's in the kitchen fixin' eggs. They should be done soon. You'll wanna get some before Katie. She loves Ma's eggs and eats twice as much as I do of 'em."

Sully chuckled, from what he was learning of Katie, that didn't sound too unusual.

"Well, I gotta go." Sully followed Brian out and watched as the boy mounted; riding off down the little path to be met by the army at the base of the next hill, but that was an everyday occurrence for Brian. He was used to it by now. Everything that seemed like it should be temporary for Sully had grown into permanence for everyone else. Slowly, he turned toward the house and, taking note of the horse still secured to the porch, moved up the hill.

"Mr. Howard…" Michaela spoke exacerbatedly, staring at all the tasks she had to do before she would be ready for the clinic. "I appreciate you stopping by… but…"

"My job is not just as attorney for the army. I'm not the one trying this case in court." Shelton Howard leaned lazily against the counter in Michaela's kitchen, blissfully ignorant to the fact she had to step around him to move from one side to the other. Unlike the times Sully had taken the same stance, keeping her company while she was in the kitchen, Howard's presence was unwelcome and inconvenient, but Howard was unaware, or at least he pretended to be. He just stood there, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, beady grey eyes watching her movements back and forth. His hair was dark, almost black, and was trimmed to be long, flipping out just above his ears. A small moustache connected on either side of his mouth to a pointed goatee. The lines of his facial hair clung around his mouth, always giving him the impression of a sly grin whether he was smiling or not. "My job is to act more as a liaison between what's happening in Denver and you."

Michaela flipped another egg from the skillet, "I have a lawyer."

"Yes, but my presence is much more valuable to you than that. Don't you believe it will help you to have an insider, to know what they're going to do before they do it?"

_But you don't work for me._ "Mr. Howard," she started once more, this time more forceful. I thank you for your concern, but I'm afraid that I have everything under control."

"Do you?" The question came at the precise moment that Michaela turned from the stove with the plate of eggs in her hand. She heard his words and her face turned to stone. Anger threatened to boil the surface as she looked into the face before her. To emotionless eyes stared back at her, judging her and her ability. She had spent her entire life proving to people her ability. Now, she found herself in a position where she no longer cared about their faith. All she asked for was not to be judged. As doubt shot out at her like a fierce arrow, she felt the same need to prove herself now, if only to her children.

"Yes Mr. Howard I do, with the exception of the fact that I have a two year old to feed and dress in forty five minutes I have everything under control. Now, if you would excuse us, I need to get ready for town." She slammed the plate down on the table and stared defiantly back at him.

"I didn't mean any harm Dr. Quinn."

"It's just a very busy morning…" she began to explain, thankful to see the man before him stand straight from his lean- a sign he was getting ready to leave. Before anything else could be said, the door shut in the living room. Michaela's eyes grew wider as she saw Sam Hawking stepped into the kitchen and she inclined her head by means of a greeting before skirting her eyes back to Howard who stood rigidly straight now. He watched the new man with surprise. In actuality, Howard had to bite back is first reaction to the skinny stranger standing in the doctor's kitchen. It would have been detrimental to his plan, very detrimental indeed. Instead, he turned back to her, eyes raised.

"You have quite the reputation, Dr. Quinn for caring for strays, but I would have thought that that habit would fall by the side seeing as to how you have your children to care for alone now."

Sully watched the scene intently, wondering if this man, wearing the latest fashion that he recognized from Denver, were the man Matthew had told him of. It had to have been. There was no mistaking the curious, mocking, assertive glances that he sent to Michaela. If not, Sully knew he had not one but two men to contend with. It took every effort of his body not to slap the sickening grin, which Howard directed to Michaela off his face. Sully watched Michaela's eyes widen and cheeks flush in embarrassment.

"Mr. Hawking, this is Mr. Shelton Howard. Mr. Howard, I've hired Mr. Hawking to complete some of the odd jobs around the house. He will be staying with us for a few days."

"Ah, It's a pleasure to meet you." It was Howard who stepped forward, arm extended. Sully's eyes dropped to the outstretched hand and back up to the face, making no motion to shake the man's hand.

"I'm sure it's the same for me," was all he whispered.

"Well," Howard's hand fell flat and he threw a glance over his shoulder to Michaela. "It was a certainly nice visit, Dr. Quinn. Thank you for the coffee." He shot a pointed glance to the empty cup on the counter- the coffee had only been offered in an effort to be hospitable. The second act of that hospitality would have been to decline the offer. With deliberate steps, the man skirted around Hawking, staring at him with the territorial awareness of a lion. The door soon shut behind him.

Sully instantly turned questioning eyes to Michaela. "I'm sorry if I interrupted anything." The accusatory note in his voice held not significance to her as she pointed to the chair before him.

"I'm the one who should apologize for him. Please have a seat. I just finished some eggs. Take some before Katie gets down here and eats the rest."

Sully smiled, "Brian said the same thing." He gazed up at her from his seated position, catching a glimpse of her face as she prepared to sit before him. It was only eight in the morning and she looked exhausted. "I thought that I'd start with the fencing today. Doesn't look like it's gonna hold much longer. You said that there was a place I could get supplies?"

"Yes, Loren Bray runs the mercantile in town. He'll be able to help you get supplies. Just tell him to add it to my account."

"I think I saw it comin' inta town."

Michaela took the last of the eggs and pulled them to the side as the soft thumping of arms and knees slowly back down the stairs.

"Katie…" Michaela leaned back around her seat to see around the corner. A lightening streak ran through the kitchen stopping only when it was caught my Michaela's arms. "Good morning."

"I here!" The little girl giggled.

"You are!" Gingerly, Michaela lifted her and placed her on the boosted seat in the chair next to her, situating her to be comfortable. While Michaela bent around her, checking the stability of the chair, Katie squirmed so that she could see Sully around the curve of her ma's shoulder. "Hi!" She threw her arm out, opening and closing her hand in a wave. Sully smiled, and waved back.

Katie's face was almost comical when she saw the eggs sitting in front of her, and then she commenced to eating her breakfast; they all did. Sully watched the way mother and daughter interacted; Michaela barely taking her attentive eyes from the little girl. It was as if there had never been any time apart. They were eating breakfast as a family.

* * *

We've got some interesting progression here! I hope your enjoying the story!


	5. Known by One

**Chapter 4**

**Known by One**

_-"All this passed through the mind of Odysseus, as the old nurse touched him with the palm of her hand and felt the scar. She knew him! And dropt the leg, which fell in the basin with a clang. so that all the water was spilt. Joy and sorrow together filled her heart, the tears rose in her eyes, her voice croaked."-_

"When ya plannin' on bringin' me my glasses?" Hank drawled, leaning across the counter on heavy elbows. Several strands of his dusty blonde hair fell over his shoulder.

"I guess I'll be bringin' them to you when I get 'em in." Loren retorted back, setting a few jars of jelly on the shelf behind the counter and shoving them to the back before placing a few more in front.

"Wha, when ya plannin' on getting' 'em in? I got customers whose expectin' glasses when they order their drinks."

"Seems to me that by the time our customers spends a few hours in our establishment, they don't really care what their drinkin' from." Jake said looking up from display of jewelry he was standing over. He lifted his hand, displaying the necklace draping over the curve of his fingers. "Ain't ya get anything better than this?"

Loren turned around, "Ah come on, what ya see is what I got. You know that. The shipment's runnin' late this week."

Jake dropped the necklace and, shoving his hands in his pockets, wandered back over to the counter. "Well, tell me when ya get something useful and I might decide to give ya some of my business."

"Who ya shoppin' for Jake? The little lady?" Hank's voice crackled with his sly grin, but he got no reaction from Jake.

"If I can keep her happy, I stay happy."

Hanks' eyes narrowed. "I don't have ta go to so much trouble to keep myself happy." He chuckled, and Jake made a pointed note of transferring his attention to Loren. He spoke with a jerk of his chin.

"Ya see Dr. Mike come inta town this mornin'?"

"Yea."

"Did you hear she took that beggar home with her last night?" Hank grinned.

Jake rolled his eyes against the pointed accusation. "You know she took him in ta do some work 'round the homestead. It's just Dr. Mike."

" She's too trustin'," for the first time since the conversation began, Loren put down his supplies and turned to face the men, giving them his full attention. "She's always wantin' ta help, but she's gotta be careful. She's gonna make a mistake, and she's got them kids to herself now."

"Sully ain't gonna be there ta save her, then." Hank drawled, his eyes dropping to the counter. The news of Sully's death had struck everyone in town hard. It seemed so strange and sudden, and was impossible to believe at first. Then there was watching Dr. Mike, who was loved by all, struggle through the days trying to learn how to function again. She was strong; she pushed forward, and the town banded around her, offering their support and help. It became obvious that during the years Michaela and Sully had become two of the most beloved people of the town regardless of the hard time others had given them, but as the months passed, Michaela began to push back against their desire to help, insisting a return to normalcy, that she and her family would find a way to run life once more without the constant offers for cooked dinners, chopped firewood, and fixed windows. They all accepted it, but the respect still shown in the reverent tone with which everyone spoke of Michaela and her family…. with the exception of the occasional joke by Hank.

A quiet hush fell among the three men, all of them thinking the same thing. Then, the sound of two footfalls stepped into the doorway. They all turned to encounter the strange man in baggy clothes and worn slouch hat, and they all knew who he was. Sam Hawking, the name had already made it its way through town. Hank's hand slammed across the counter with an air of formality.

"All right, back to work."

"Yea, I'm goin' too. See ya later, Loren." Loren's face fell at the prospect of having to be the one to stay behind with unwanted stranger.

"I'll get those glasses to ya when they come in," he called after them. As the two men passed Sully, they focused their gaze on him, each summing up the unknown man with their own stern gaze. It was obvious that he was unwelcome, and yet Sully just nodded, a gentle look of kindness in his eyes.

"Mr. Bray?" Sully spoke as he entered the store, the timber in his voice dropped significantly. Loren threw a gaze over his shoulder.

"That's me."

Sully nodded, "It's nice ta meet ya. I was goin' ta fix the fence out at Dr. Quinn's and she told me ta come here for some supplies. I need some nails and lumber."

Loren shrugged, "The nails are over there. I ain't got much lumber. I might have some boards out back."

Sully looked around, thinking. His eyes scanned around the room, looking at all the merchandise, the books, cloth, jewelry. He needed a way to get Loren away from here. Suddenly, Sully's eyes spotted a completely outfitted toolbox sitting in the back room.

"Ya got any hammers for sale?"

Loren looked up; his face offering no hospitality or acceptance. "Dr. Mike's already got a good hammer." Sully had to fight the urge to smile. It spoke volumes that Loren didn't attempt to sell more to him than what was needed for the simple fact of making the sell. He knew he'd made the right decision.

"Can I just see one?"

"I don't have any."

"Then what's that back there." Sully signaled to the tool with a nod of his head, taking a few steps closer to the edge of the counter and consequently, the door. Loren turned around and looked. He sighed at the frustration of being caught lying, and his inability to say anything but, "wait here. Let me see." Loren stepped into the back room, and Sully quickly followed.

With a sweep of his arm, Sully threw down the curtain barrier, hiding them in the back room, and caught Loren under the arm, pulling him further into the corner. His actions were smooth and quick, not too dissimilar from a robber about to make a demand; this similarity was not lost of Loren.

"Let me go!" He demanded, trying to pull his arm away, but Sully held firm.

"Loren, Loren." The voice spoke normally, but Loren barely registered that he recognized the voice.

Sully dropped his arm once he had the older man cornered, standing in front of him by means to prevent immediate escape. "Loren," he whispered once more, lifting the hat off his head and pulling at the kerchief so that strands of honeyed locks could be seen. Loren's face visibly fell and he fell silent. For a long moment, he just stared as Sully as if he was incapable of understanding.

"No, no it can't be," and then, "Sully?" He said it as if he were afraid it wouldn't be true, and yet his mind was registering that it was too similar to not be true. It was only now that he took into consideration the piercing blue eyes, and reconstructed the face before him without the mass of facial hair.

"Yea," it came as a sigh.

"How, what are you doing here? Dr. Mike didn't say…"

"She don't know…"

"Wha?"

Sully took a deep breath. "I got a story, Loren. It's a long one, but before I tell ya I need ta know you'll keep my secret, no matter what." Loren nodded, "Loren…"

"Yea, alright. What happened?"

Sully told him. He told him of the attack of the caravan and his time spent recovering with the Indians. He told him of his trails to make it back to Denver, and he spoke of his meeting with Matthew. "Matthew didn't think that it'd be safe for me ta come back with all that's happenin', but after hearin' about this Shelton Howard, I didn' want ta wait." His voice fell, "It's been too long."

"Your right about that, but why don't ya tell Dr. Mike?"

"She's got enough ta deal with. I don't want her bein' bothered with trying ta make sure she keeps my secret, that I'm safe."

"Ya think that's wise?" it had been a question that Sully had asked himself many times. It wasn't the best solution, but none of his answers were. He just had to pick one and hope that Michaela would forgive him for it later.

Sully leaned forward, "It's all I know ta do, but that's what I need your help with. I ain't in the position where she'll tell me what's goin' on. I'm a stranger. I need ya to be my eyes."

"Course, Sully. I do whatever ya need." A small spark of a smile stretched the corners of Sully's mouth. It was a smile of relief.

"Matthew might send ya somethin' from Denver. Just let me know if ya get anythin'."

"I can do that." Sully nodded and stepped away, readjusting his hat on his head. "But how did ya know I'd say yes?" Loren asked, taking note that it had already been agreed between Sully and Matthew where the letters were to be sent.

Sully's smile grew brighter, "I knew I could trust ya." He backed up, turning his attention back to the toolbox that had lead them into the back room to begin with. He reached for the hammer, flipping it up into his palm.

"I'll put it on the tab if ya want it." Loren's voice conceded.

"Nah," Sully said with an ironic gleam in his eye. "Dr. Mike's already got a good one," he said, reusing Loren's words from earlier.

Even Loren felt himself smile, feeling the dim hopelessness of before vanishing. He clapped Sully on the back, "let's get ya some lumber. I think I may have more than what I let on."

* * *

_The hearing set the trail to begin Monday. – M._

Michaela thumbed the edge of the telegram in her hand, watching the way the paper bent with the pressure of the finger. She was lost in thought knowing that the events of the next week would determine her future and that of her family, and she was powerless to do anything about it. She could only react to what the events ordered her to, but after so many years of simply waiting and reacting, she was beginning to grow tired. She wanted, no… she _needed_, action, to be in control of something.

A stray hand set a cup of coffee before her and Michaela looked up, the corner of her mouth curling in acceptance. She lay the telegram down.

"What does it say?" Dorothy, who had been watching Michaela in her quietness asked. Grace, bringing a pot to the table, sat down as well.

Michaela took a deep breath before she spoke, her hands clasping around the warm cup before her. She should have worn gloves this morning. "It's from Matthew. He said that the trail was scheduled to start Monday."

Grace lay a hand at her back, "It'll all be over then."

"That's what I keep hoping for. It's been two years and I don't see the light yet."

"It'll be over, and the jury will rule what we've all known all along. Sully was not responsible for what happened out on that mountain."

Michaela's eyes lifted to Dorothy, questioning. It was obvious that though she desperately wanted to believe her friend's words, she wasn't as certain of their truth. In fact, she had almost resigned herself that the guilty verdict would be given. "No one's seemed to see that yet. I'm not sure if they will." Grace said nothing; she simply just leaned closer to Michaela, letting the warmth of her body heat remind her friend of her presence.

"It'd kill Sully to know what you all are going through, that he didn't leave his family secure and well provided for."

Grace spoke softly, "that wasn't his doin'."

"Of course not, it's these men who find it necessary to make an example where there isn't one to be found. If you don't think something will be running in my Gazette…" Dorothy and Grace prattled on.

Michaela hadn't spoke for some time. Instead, she just sat and eventually lifted her hand to her brow, starting her fingers at the bridge of her nose and spreading them across her forehead tightly. "How is Thomas? Is his cough any better?" She changed the subject, turning her attention to Grace. The happy mother just smiled.

"He's much better. That syrup you gave him helped."

Michaela nodded glad that she was at least still capable of her job. She took a sip of her coffee.

Dorothy happened to look up, over Michaela's head, and noticed a man, standing on the porch of the mercantile looking at them, well… looking at Michaela. From the far distance, she could still see that his eyes watched Michaela intently, taking note of her curved form, sipping the warm liquid. "Is that Mr. Hawking?" She asked, sending Michaela and Grace turning to look behind them. The man rocked in to motions, stepping commonly off the front of the porch.

"It is. I told him to get what supplies he needed before he started working on the fence."

"You know Robert E would have come to fix that fence anytime."

"I know Grace, and thank you. I just thought that those jobs would be appropriate for him to do if he were to be staying in the barn."

"That's another thing," Dorothy said, eye glancing to Grace, "are you sure that that's a wise decision, to have him stay with you and the kids?"

Michaela sighed, it was a question she had asked herself many times, but there was one thing she couldn't refute. "I trust Matthew's judgment." It was all that was needed and all women nodded in understanding.

"Dr Quinn," the sound of another, more annoying voice broke their conversation as Shelton Howard ambled over, shuffling his boots across the dirt. "I trust you've heard the news this morning." He smiled down upon the three women, but looked only at Michaela.

"The trail starts Monday." She nodded, "Matthew sent me a telegram."

"What a thoughtful son you have." He forced a smile that Michaela did not return. When she didn't reply, he filled the silence, "Yes, well hopefully, things will all be settled shortly." The doubts from earlier did not play across Michaela's face this time, and she simply acknowledge his words.

"I suppose I need to be getting to the clinic. My first appointment is at nine-thirty." She moved to rise from her chair, which Howard rushed to pull out for her.

"Well you allow me to escort you to the clinic?"

Michaela sighed, "Actually I'm sure you are very busy Mr. Howard, but I appreciate you coming to tell me about the trail." With a nod to Dorothy and Grace, she turned and left without giving Howard a chance to protest. He was left to walk off in the other direction.

* * *

It was mid afternoon, two to be precise when Michaela gave into her desire. She'd spent all morning glancing at the clock curious about the homestead. All of the questions and concerned looks had finally gotten to her, and she had finally closed the clinic, if only for half an hour to ride out and make sure everything was ok.

The temporary fence was still standing when she rode up on Flash, in fact, she didn't see anything, or anyone around at all. The wagon was pulled to the front of the barn with the back laid down, but there was nothing inside. Despite her best effort, Michaela began to wonder if everyone had been right, that she had allowed herself to be fooled; yet, she didn't let herself to consider it until she knew it to be truth. She tossed Flash's reigns over the railing of the porch before heading down the hill, her skirt swishing against her legs.

When she reached the door to the barn, she peered inside. There was not a soul, but the door on the other side of was swung wide open. She wandered through. At the back of the barn, the lumber from the morning was laid out. Several of the boards had already been cut and now leaned against the side of the barn. Another, board lay on the sawhorses with a hand saw lying still on top. The box of tools lay off to the side. At the corner of the barn, Sam Hawking sat on a stump holding a ladle, and drinking out of the water bucket. His eyes followed something off in the distance. Michaela turned and followed his stare and saw Wolf running toward them from the tall grass.

When he had returned from town, Sully had climbed down from the wagon and was instantly greeted by Wolf who ran toward him and in an instant was standing straight up, paws pressed firmly into Sully's chest while licking his face. For the first time in a long time, a strange sound bubbled from Sully's throat, shaking his adam's apple as his head bent back in hopes of avoiding the slimy tongue slithering at him. He was laughing. "Hey boy," he greeted his friend, kneeling so that Wolf could stand on four legs. "Hey," he whispered. Sully buried his fingers into the thick coat, feeling the dog nuzzle him by means of thank you for his rub. "Ya wanna help me fix the fence?" Sully asked happily, leaning back so that he could see the animal in the eyes. He could see the excitement that danced in the shiny face that greeted him. "It'll be just like old times." He felt the tension leave his body and a subtle smile stretch his lips. Slowing his movements, Sully ultimately ended, arms wrapped around the thick neck and his face buried in the fur. He allowed himself just a few seconds where total comfort eased his shoulders, and in the process, he looked as Katie had the night before. Now, in the mid afternoon, Sully watched as Wolf trotted back to him with a cloth ball in his mouth.

Michaela cleared her throat, watching as Hawking's attention turned to her suddenly and then away. He had yet to look her in the eyes. He stood suddenly, acknowledging her presence, but when his gaze did return to her, his eyes roamed either side of her, but never landing on her eyes. "Dr Quinn…"

"I just came by to see that you had everything you needed."

"Yea," he flashed a glance behind him at the water bucket, "I was just takin' a break."

Michaela nodded, eyes watching Wolf now was he walked around the open gate and dropped the ball at Hawking's feet, staring up at her before transferring his gaze to the man who stood across from her. "I see you've met Wolf."

"Yea," Hawking crossed his arms across his chest and diverted his gaze down to the dog. "He's been keeping me company today."

Michaela glanced back down at the dog sitting close to Hawking's feet. The scene struck her as something she would have seen between Wolf and Sully. In fact, she was sure that she'd seen it so many times. Her eyelids dropped shut. Had Wolf forgotten his master so quickly? The thought made her heart ache.

Sully noticed the pained look that crossed her eyes. She was still uncomfortable in his presence; he was still a stranger to her. Well, he was going to have to find a way to change that. Reaching down for the ball, Sully threw it back into the grass, sending Wolf on the chase before returning to the saw that had been laying idle, placing enough distance between him and Michaela that he could look at her without fear that she'd register something in his eyes.

"Did you have a busy mornin'?"

Michaela thought back to her day, focusing on the events that led her to the now. "Not really. I had a few checkups, a few children developing a little cough."

"The cold air must be hard on 'em."

"It is. I usually see smaller children this time of the year."

"Will it get worse from here, or do ya notice much of a change in 'em as winter goes on."

"I'll notice it if there's a particularly difficult snow. It's hard to keep little ones warm on these cold nights."

Sully began to force the saw back and forth across the top of the board, the teeth tearing into wood, sending shavings fluttering to the ground. He spoke as he moved, "I bet the mountain air don't help much."

"On the contrary, the dry air seems to be very therapeutic to some." Michaela didn't notice when she wandered to the edge of the barn, leaning against the sturdy frame, but Sully did. She didn't recognize the fact that the tension in her shoulders dropped with every question he asked, and that she grew more secure with each answer she gave him. She was relaxing in his presence, slowly opening a place in her life for him to step inside, even if that place was as a friend. They had been friends before and now they would start over at the same place. Sully was content with that.

* * *

"Dammit!" Shelton Howard's fist slammed on the top of his desk. "Why didn't you stop the hearing?" His aid just stared across at him, unsure of what to say.

"Sir, the hearing was set three months ago."

"And it was postponed from before that! Vick managed to get that hearing delayed twice! If you are going to have his job, you make sure you can do it!"

The young aide simply looked around, unsure of what to say, "but sir, isn't this what's supposed to happen? The hearing needed to occur to set the date for the trail."

"But there should be no trail!" Howard shot to his feet, leaning over his desk. "You have numbered my days, Mr. Johnson," he spat the boy's name out as if it was poison. "If I am to have Michaela Quinn for my own, it will have to be while I still have a reason to be around. Once the trial is complete I have nothing for her!" The aide's eyes grew wider and Howard recognized the look of distress there. It amused him enough to stand straight, shoving his hand into his pocket and walking to the small folding table where a bottle of brandy sat. Slowly he poured a glass and began once again in a more conversational tone, "'Why' do you ask?" he waited for no answer, "have you seen her Mr. Johnson? Have you seen her with that shining hair and beautiful face, and that body standing erect and strong, that jaw rigid and defiant as if she could carry the entire world on her shoulders if necessary? Let me promise you, she can't, and I want to be the one to teach her that. I want to be the one to break her." He said the words as if they tasted like candy, smooth and sweet. His eyes flashed in frustration as he gazed over the boy before him, "Now, see if you can fix this." With a sudden movement, he threw his head back and downed the caramel liquid, slamming the glass on the table. When he looked up, his aide was gone.

* * *

Wow, so what do you think? You know I'm enjoying hearing from you all! I hope you enjoy this as well!


	6. Grown Too Fast

**Chapter 5**

**Grown Too Fast**

_-"Mother dear, I can't be surprised that you are angry. I do notice everything, and I know quite well what is good and what is bad. I was only a child before. But I cannot think always of the right things to do, for these men fairly daze me: here they sit, on this side and on that side, full of malice, and I have no one to help me."-_

"_Caaww! Caaawww!_" An eagle's cry echoed throughout the valley as the early morning sun crawled lazily over the mountains, its rays splashing excitedly across the crisp air. The only other sound was the thudded stab of a walking stick into the damp, leaf covered ground followed by two footsteps.

Sully paused for just a moment, clasping his walking stick between his two hands and looking around. The light flickered trough the trees, casting its shadow, and his, against the forest floor. In the tree ahead of him, a squirrel scampered from one branch to the next, shaking the wooden beams and sending the last of the leaves floating through the air. With another stab, Sully continued, bowing around branches, ducking under limbs until, with a sweep of his arm, he stepped out into a clearing.

The clearing was a gently sloping ground, guiding toward a stable rock that jutted from the side of the mountain. A tree's twisted and gnarled roots wrapped through the rock. From where he stood, Sully could see the gentle rolling green of the tops of the trees for miles, and just beneath his feet was a clearing of flat land grass rippling in the early morning wind.

Sully made his steady footfalls toward the rock, using his walking stick as support as he made small steps down the incline and then finally slid. When he came to a stop, though, he simply sat on his knees, hand dropping the hat and kerchief that contained his hair to the side, and allowing the breeze to blow his hair. The cool air chilled his scalp, damp with sweat that ran down his neck. It was good to have his hair flying free, if only for a few minutes.

Sully's eyes shut as he sat on the mountain, under the shade of the tree and he listened. He listened to the early morning sounds. He listened to the rustle of the leaves. He listened to himself and to the spirits. It had been two years and he hadn't listened through any of it. Instead, he acted; he _moved,_ this way and that, focusing on not the journey, but the end. He had been so rushed to get to Colorado he had never stopped to listen. Now, he forced himself to climb the mountain he had climbed on many occasions, making those steps, watching the path, and here, he forced himself to think of Michaela, Brian and Katie, the Homestead, Cloud Dancing. He forced himself to think of the lost time.

It was a moment of loneliness different from the past years. He was there with his family, but could do nothing. He was left making decisions he had no business making, and he was struggling to find the path. All he needed was the direction he was going. From there, he could find the steps again; he wouldn't mess up, but where there once was a well-worn dirt walkway, the grass had grown over and he'd lost his way. He never was supposed to have lost two years, two years with his wife, his son. It was the two years that had created Katie into a little person, and those two years he couldn't regain.

It was almost too much; Sully wasn't sure that he'd ever recapture it all. He wasn't sure that his place was waiting on him, that he could slip easily back into his role as father and husband. Katie wouldn't even know who he was and Michaela, _oh Michaela,_ Sully bowed his head to his hands. Would she ever be able to forgive him? Would they be able to overcome their time apart, would she even want to once she realized what he was doing now? Suddenly, as if life flooded his tired body, Sully's head threw back, a cry of frustration echoing through the trees. His frantic hand grasped the nearest object- his walking stick- and hurled it as far as it would go. It tumbled straight to the valley floor.

None of this was fair. Sully collapsed again, this time head resting on arms folded over the hardened earth. In that moment he wished away everything he'd ever fought for, the Indians, the earth, and everything he'd ever fought against. He was tired, tired of the struggle. All he wanted to do now was exist. _Cloud Dancin'_ his mind cradled over the name for just a second, long enough for him to reprimand himself. Though he needed his brother's council, it would not be possible until after the ordeal was over, and by then it may be too late.

As Sully lay against the cool stone, he listened to the morning calls and numbness replaced the pain.

* * *

As the early morning rays climbed still higher, leaving Sully with his thoughts, they spread into the valley where the homestead sat. The first direct rays landed on the bed of the upstairs room where Michaela lay diagonally across the bed. It had been a position she had become accustomed to taking over the years. Over the course of the night, she always managed to squirm from her side of the bed, knocking her pillow in one direction as she clamored to the other side in her sleep, and she often found she woke with her face buried not in her own pillow, but the one that had been Sully's. She could still smell the soft scent that his hair left, though it was fading rapidly each day.

This morning Michaela was awakened by the early strands of sunlight. The rays always seemed to illuminate Sully's side of the bed first, as if making it impossible for her to mistake the fact that once again she was alone.

She was sprawled across her stomach, her arms wrapped tightly around a pillow to her side and her cheek resting slightly on the softness. The faded smell of cedar and leather filled her nose. She felt the resistance of the linen against her eyelashes when she opened her eyes. For several seconds she just laid still, watery eyes moving left and right before fluttering shut in a tight squeeze. She felt as though she could sleep for another six hours and not feel rested.

A deep throng chimed in the living area down stairs, and Michaela counted the beats. It was seven in the morning. The weight of the week began to press back on her, forcing her steadily down into the bed, refusing to let her get up of her own accord, but she knew that this didn't matter much anyway. It was Saturday morning, and the squeak of her already cracked bedroom door announced that it was time to wake up.

Michaela didn't turn over as she felt the little hands grasp the bed sheets in an attempt to pull up, and she lay still as the successful venture resulted in added weight on the bed, shaking the feather tick with each arm and knee that crawled toward her. Then two hands pressed on Michaela's top arms followed by a pointed chin. Slowly, she allowed her eyes to float open and stared into the crystal blue gaze of excitement. The corners of the cherry red lips up turned in a sly smile.

"Wake up Mommy!" Katie giggled as she tumbled over Michaela's frame, coming to rest in front of her. Michaela readjusted herself so that her arms now wrapped around both the pillow and the smiling two year old who was now laying on it.

"Good morning, my angel." Michaela whispered tapping the tip of the little girl's nose. Katie eagerly clasped her mother's hand, intertwining her fingers around Michaela's larger ones.

"Don't go back to sweep!" She said alarmed at the fact that her mother's eyes were once again closing. "Wake up!" She cried, jumping to her knees and shoving against Michaela's shoulder, "wake up! Wake up! It 'th Thadaday!"

"It _is_ Saturday. Why don't we sleep a little longer?" Michaela rolled over to her back and, reclaiming her own pillow, adjusted it under her head.

"No, Mommy… my thtory." Katie whimpered lightly as she fell against her mother's side, taking her weight over her knees.

Michaela's eyes opened gingerly, staring at the ceiling first, before moving to Katie who, stared at her disappointedly. She wondered how it came to be that she was blessed with such a beautiful daughter who never asked for much more than this, fuel for her imagination and learning. Michaela didn't have to think long before she realized she knew the answer; she knew it because she asked herself the same question every Saturday morning when Katie clamored into her bed, and she knew it because she'd answered it many times before. There was not a single thing that her daughter did or said that didn't remind Michaela of Sully, of his values, his spirit, his physical tendencies, and she knew that Katie was a mark of uniqueness among a world of universals because of who her father had been. Michaela knew it to be fact, and she woke every morning with the purpose to show it to Katie as well. This was Saturday morning and all Saturday mornings started with a story about "Poppy."

"Alright," with a swift move, Michaela positioned Sully's pillow next to her own and lifted Katie toward it. "Lay on Poppy's side of the bed." Together, both girls lay on their side facing one another, Katie's little hands playing with a caramel strand of her mother's hair, while Michaela subconsciously smoothed out the little one's nightgown. "Do you have a story in mind?"

Katie's hands stopped their motion as she thought, and then a sweet smile brightened her eyes. Her hands clasped the neck of her gown and pulled it up under her chin, " the thircuth."

"The Circus?" Michaela's eyes relaxed as she thought, remembering the happy memory in a time when they still seemed to be so uncertain. Looking back now there had really been no uncertainty at all.

"_Sully… do you think I'm…"Michaela turned to him, eyes uncertain, self-conscious of her own faults. _

"_Bossy?" His completion of her sentence told her all she needed to know, yet with a pause he shook his head, his lips turning up in a grin of adoration, "not for me."_

"Did you know that your father never did let me fall?" She asked to two enthralled eyes. The little head shook, "He didn't. He always caught me just like he promised. He was good at that, always keeping his promises." Reaching out to tuck a strand of Katie's curls behind her ear, Michaela began her story.

* * *

"I told Miss Dorothy that I'd bring my first draft over this morning before lunch, but I can ask her to look at it another day if ya need me ta work on the fence." Brian spoke, dumping the scraps from his breakfast plate and laying it to the side with the other soiled dishes.

"No, I don't think that's necessary." Michaela stood at the stove, empty plate in hand, as she picked a couple of pieces of bacon from the skillet and positioned them on the plate before taking a biscuit.

"Ma…" Brian sighed exasperatedly. They had been over this many times. As hard as Brian pushed to do more around the homestead after Sully left, Michaela matched his strength, taking most of the missing responsibilities on herself. Often times she'd shake her head, "no I'll do that, you need to study," or "no, your article is far more important, I'll feed the horses." In truth, she asked him to do some things, but was far too conscious that he not spend all of his time working when he, being so young needed to be learning and experiencing many things. After Sully's death, Brian had had to grow up too fast, though Michaela did her best to slow time for him.

"Mr. Hawking is already working on the fence." Michaela interrupted, already prepared for the argument ahead. They had this discussion many times. Brian told her that he was worried because she tried to do too much, that he could handle it too, and Michaela merely smiled at him musing how much of Sully's attributes Brian had inherited even though they hadn't been linked by blood. Then she'd firmly shake her head and give him a steady answer. There was no changing her mind.

At the news that the mysterious man had already commenced to work, Brian stepped to the window and looked out. Certain enough, the man stood in the cold morning sun, an old coat of Matthew's wrapped snuggly around his body and his hat bowed as he worked steady over the wood. "How long's he been workin'?"

"I'm not sure. He was out there when I came downstairs with Katie." A quick glance over her shoulder found Katie still sitting in the den, feeding her dolly breakfast.

Brian turned back to her, a frown settling across his face, "are ya sure there ain't anythin' I can do for ya?"

"Actually, if you wouldn't mind working on some firewood before you leave. The dry box is getting a little low."

The frown turned to a slight grin showing the subtle white of his teeth. "Sure."

Michaela met him at the door, waiting patiently for him to don his coat and hat before handing him the plate she had been working on before covering it with a red and white checked napkin. "If you wouldn't mind taking this to Mr. Hawking while you're there." Brian took the plate and bobbed his head, smiling his compliance to his ma, and headed down the hill.

"I thought ya might like somethin' ta eat." Brian said by way of announcement, turning Hawking from his task. "Looks like ya been workin' hard."

Sully straightened, lifting his arm to wipe the drops of sweat that clung to the end of his nose. The plate transferred from Brian's hand to his, and Sully, swinging his leg over a stump, sat. With a flick of his wrist, he threw back the cloth, exposing a breakfast that made his stomach growl. "Thank ya."

Brian nodded and moved to the side of the barn where the axe hung. Sully took the opportunity to watch Brian's movements. He hadn't had the chance to be with his son, one on one the way he had Michaela. With the pain and anger from the morning firmly replaced by an observant numbness, his mind began to work through the chance of a conversation with Brian. Perhaps the same relaxation that Michaela was just stepping into would come with his son as well. He hoped so, Sully wasn't sure he could bare it if it were any other way.

After a few minutes of watching Brian setting up to work with firewood, Sully finally broke the silence, nodding to the temporarily mended fence. "You do that?"

Brian looked up and nodded.

"Musta been some storm that came through."

"Oh it was," Brian situated the first log and swung, slicing it in two. "Ma was afraid that there was a tornado or somethin'. She thought the homestead might come down, but all the damaged was to the roof and the fence."

Sully turned and looked at the fence, waiting for the _thwack_ of a few more swings before speaking again. "That mend looks good, real sturdy."

"Thanks; my pa taught me to mend a fence real good," but then he shrugged, admitting, "but Matthew came ta help."

"That's alright. Everyone needs help, 'specially with things like that." Sully finished the sentence by popping the top of his biscuit into his mouth. "Your pa musta taught you a lot." Sully tried not to let the remorse sound in his voice as he gazed back to his son, watching the strength behind each swing. He had grown so much.

Sully did not miss the fond smile that split Brian's face at the mention of his father. Would that smile still be there even after all of this?

"Yea, my pa was really great. He knew a lot uh things. He was really good at buildin' things. He built the homestead." Vibrant pride shuttered in Brian's voice as he turned to look at the still beautiful structure. It had been one of the most complex and yet simple gifts Sully had ever given him. With Sully's marriage to his ma, Brian not only acquired a home but a complete family. "He knew a lot about the Cheyenne too, and was always tellin' stories 'bout 'em. He had a story for everythin'. I think he could have told one every night and not told the same one over, an' he always knew about the baby deer that come down the mountain in the winter. He could tell ya where the buffalo were grazin'."

"Do the buffalo graze a lot in this area?"

"Used to, but not so much the past few years, or at least I haven't seen 'em." Brian fell quiet, thinking, it was obvious to Sully, as he chopped more wood. Finishing his plate, Sully laid it to the side and went to examine the fence, sensing that their conversation wasn't over, but that he shouldn't be the one to continue it. Finally, Brian spoke, stopping his motions to lean on the handle of his axe. "He was always fightin' for people, for what was right. He never backed down just 'cause somethin' was hard. That's how he died, tryin' ta help people. He was going ta make sure that the Cheyenne were treated right, regardless of what everyone else says." The words were pointed, moving from memory, to fact, to determination. To Brian, it was the essence of who his pa was, and what he would always remember him for.

Sully dared to speak in the solemnity, his chest tightening at the sadness in Brian's voice, while feeling a sense of pride for how much he'd left behind in his son. He'd only ever wanted Brian to be the best person he could be, honest, gentle, kind, yet somehow along the lines Sully had impressed more on the boy that he'd intended, by simply being true to himself. "It must have changed a lot after he left." Somehow, Sully couldn't bring himself to use the word "died."

"It did, but Ma didn't want it to. She tried to keep everything the same for me and Katie, ta do everything and be everythin' for us; she still does. It's frustratin' 'cause sometimes I wanna try an' help her, but she says I have other things ta worry 'bout. She might be right, but it don't make it any easier on her." Now Sully's pride returned two fold as he listed to Brian talk of Michaela. He would never cease to be amazed with the woman he chose to be his wife. It was proof that there would never be anyone like her.

"She sounds like an amazin' person." Sully spoke his minds and received a vigorous nod.

"She is, an' I love her for it." Another _thwack _and Brian was back to work.

* * *

Brian came and went, leaving a few hours before lunch on Taffy. By that time, Sully had finished the preparations for the fence had had completely dismantled the mend. He had finished working in the soil, widening and firming the earth to support the replacement beams that he now dropped one by one in place. Up the hill, the front door to the homestead swung open, unheard by Sully.

Michaela walked out with her basket of laundry, her skirt swishing across the wooden floor of the porch as she walked. Shifting the basket to her hip so that she could see the ground, she descended the four steps to the ground. Katie followed shortly walking out to the top step and stopping, watching her ma drop the laundry basket and turn back for her, lifting her and setting her on the ground. Michaela went back for the door. Katie toddled to the basket, and, while sucking on her thumb, she pressed her other hand deep into the soft fabric, lifting a skirt off the top and looking at the colors in the sunlight. She turned to look over her shoulder at the man standing down the hill and smiled. She liked Mr. 'awkin'. He was nice and smiled at her a lot. Grabbing a side of the basket, Katie began to pull it down the hill. On the first tug, however, she met resistance. Letting go of the handle in a huff, she turned at the argumentative basket, glaring at it as it sat stubbornly in place. She tugged again, nothing. Finally, she grasped the rim with both hands and pulled with all her might budging the basket slightly and stirring up dust behind it. She took three steps backwards and then tugged again, pulling the basket along.

Michaela stepped off the porch, hastily, not stopping to register Katie's action, or her determined gaze. Instead, she bent to lift the basket to which the little girl let out a mournful cry.

"No!" It was loud enough to catch Sully's attention. He turned in time to see Michaela shoot straight up.

"What's wrong?" She asked, encountering Katie's lowered brows, gazing up at her in warning. Jutting her pointer finger out, she turned it and pointed at her chest.

"I do it."

"But Katie it'll be quicker…" her mind thought about all the things that needed to be done today.

"No…" she stared back, and then added, "me" for clarification. Katie dropped her hands to her hips in determination, unknowingly matching Michaela's stance. From down the hill where Sully stood it was quite a scene: mother and daughter standing face to face as if in a standoff, the same shade of caramel hair blowing in the wind.

Michaela gazed back for a moment, and sighed. She had no desire for an argument, and the only thing that would come from Katie's task would be slowing her laundry down. "All right. You'll bring it to the barn for me?" Katie nodded twice, a strand of curls falling in front of her face; her lips curled as she reached for the basket. Michaela turned down the hill, "I want her to be independent," she whispered by means to convince herself.

Sully watched as Michaela turned from their daughter, leaving Katie tugging at the basket. Michaela stepped into the barn, and Sully could hear the clank of wood as she struggled to pull the wash bucket out of the barn. He dropped his hammer to the side.

"Can I help?" He asked, stepping inside, watching as Michaela tugged at the bucket and stand in the similar way Katie had just up the hill.

She turned out of breath and looked at him, "oh no, I'll be fine." She tugged once more, nearly pulling the rig over on top of her. Sully's hand jutted out and caught it.

"Here, let me help." He used the back of his left hand against her shoulder to nudge her out of the way. Lifting with his knees, he pulled the entire object into his arms and moved it outside, leaving Michaela to pick up the washboard and soap.

Michaela stepped out the door and watched as Hawking sat the rig down. "Thank you," she uttered as he bent and poured the water Brian had drawn before he left into the bucket.

Hawking didn't reply, but nodded up the hill to Katie, still tugging. "She's a determined little thing, ain't she?"

Michaela smiled softly, "She is. There's no use reasoning with her when she sets her mind to something, and she'll never give up no matter what her task." She moved to stand next to him, both watching the little girl.

"She must get that from her ma," his statement acquired a questioning look from Michaela. He turned to meet her gaze, but only for a moment as a flash of recognition changed the shade of hazel in her eyes. The change was so subtle that Sully wasn't even sure Michaela even registered it, but it was there. His eyes moved seamlessly over to the washtub before glancing back at her. Michaela's face flushed red. Point taken.

"Yes, I suppose I am a little…" she tasted the word 'stubborn' before settling on "determined."

"Ain't nothin' wrong with that."

"_Bossy? Not for me."_ Michaela struggled to swallow, moving away from Hawking as Katie finally reached the fence.

"Thank you." She greeted the little girl with a smile.

"I here!" The little girl announced, proudly displaying the basket for both Michaela and Misser 'awkin' to see.

"I see that." Sully laughed, as Michaela moved into action, dumping some of the laundry into the water and, grabbing the first garment, she began to scrub.

Katie turned to waddle up next to Sully, and pointed a finger toward his work. "What that?" Sully knelt on her level, so he could look her straight in the eye.

"That's gonna to be a fence when I fix it. I'm gonna tie some beams running 'cross from those beams and it's gonna look like that when I'm done." He shifted her attention to a stable portion of the fence and watched as she looked between the two examples. Her eyes cut back to him, "oh," she said, making him smile.

Katie giggled at the older man's smile and lifted her hand to entangle her fingers in her hair. Suddenly she was struck shy, "I go help Mommy now." She ran back to where Michaela stood scrubbing, tugging on her Ma's skirt and receiving a calming smile before climbing into the laundry basket, sitting on the dirty laundry.

She grabbed the bed sheet and threw it over her head. Lifting it at the corner to peer over at Sully, who waved slightly eliciting a squeal as Katie dropped the sheet back over her head.

"Where is Katie, where is Katie." Katie could hear her ma singing and felt the coolness of her shadow as she bent over her, blocking the sunlight. The edge of the blanket tugged slightly and lifted.

Michaela lifted the sheet only far enough for her to stick her head in, meeting a wave and a "Hi Mommy!" as she did so. It felt good to smile and laugh, and somehow an afternoon with Katie guaranteed that she would do both, even if it was against her will at times.

Michaela pointed at the sheets under Katie, "can I have some more?"

"Yea! Here." Grasping a handful, Katie thrust them toward Michaela.

"Thank you." She said taking the sheets and lowering the sheet back over her head. And so went the afternoon.

* * *

Ok, there's the next chapter! I hope you liked it; I had a great time writing Katie. She's such a doll!


	7. The Pearl of Women

**Chapter 6**

**The Pearl of Women**

_-"As they were talking together, Eurymachos called to Penelopeia: ' My Lady Penelopeia, if all our nations could see you from north to south, there would be a crowd of new-comers dining here to-morrow and aspiring to your hand! For you are the pearl of women for beauty and intelligence too."-_

**Opening arguments this morning at 8. **_**M.**_

The telegram lay open on top of Michaela's desk, unattended after the first reading. It covered the text of an open book concerning the effects of chloroform on head injury patients, which was also unread. In fact, everything sprawled across the top of the desk had been examined for only half an hour, if that long, before the arrival of the first patient- four hours ago. Currently, Michaela stood at the far end of the exam room, speaking insistently over her shoulder to the patient sitting on her table while stirring a new mixture that she had created.

"This should settle your stomach," she said, walking over to Mrs. Klaras, an elderly woman sitting feebly on the edge of the table. Michaela handed the glass over, but stayed close watching the expression and pallor on her patient's face for any changes from the normal. She swayed slightly back and forth, trying to relieve the ache in the soles of her feet. She hadn't sat down for hours.

Mrs. Klaras drank steadily, her wrinkled knuckles shaking slightly with the action. When she finished she handed the glass back to Michaela and closed her eyes a moment, "Yes," she said eventually, "I think it is helping."

"Good," Michaela responded, her face relaxing from its tension. "Take it easy with what you eat for the rest of the day, try to stay with juice and some sort of broth or stew for a while before casually introducing normal foods back into your system. Come see me, though if you have any problems again." Michaela held her arm out for stability as the older woman slide her frail body from the exam table, and slowly made her way to the door. Mrs. Klaras glanced at her a few times, smiling sincerely, thanking Michaela for her help. When they stepped past the front door into the dusty swirl of the outside world, Mrs. Klaras turned to her, cupping Michaela's face in her cold, boney hand.

"You're such a charming girl." The compliment made Michaela lower her head and close her eyes, a gesture something akin to a smile, for the simple fact that she rarely felt anything similar to a girl, and hadn't for some time. It was like recapturing youth, "You just make sure that you take care of yourself too." Michaela nodded, her hand wrapping around the older wrist.

"I will. Thank you." As Michaela watched the older woman hobble off, she stood like a statue glued to the wooden beams of the porch. She could hear the words over and over, _lovely girl, take care of yourself. _She heard the words, but they had no meaning. She felt no acceptance in the idea that she was keeping her word or guilt in that it was to be ignored with her next breath. They were just words.

At the far end of the street, a figure wearing a white apron, sweeping the front steps stopped to watch Michaela. He watched her stillness, trying to determine the object of her faraway gaze, and he saw the jerk of her head to the right as her name was called. Shelton Howard strolled toward her, his panama hat tilted to the side of his head. Loren propped the broom on the post next to him, leaning his hand behind it, not bothering to hid the fact that he was watching them from across the street.

"Dr. Quinn!" Howard walked toward Michaela's line of vision, his head dipping in her direction in greeting. Michaela squared her shoulders toward him, giving him her full attention.

"Yes?"

"I hoped that there might be time to speak with you today?" The slight twinkle in his eye looked mischievous, and the sly grin grew beneath his beard.

Michaela immediately noticed look and her eyes narrowed. For the first time, she felt more uncomfortable than annoyed by his presence. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Oh yes, yes. I just wanted… Dr. Quinn there was something that I wanted to tell you."

Michaela felt anxiety rise in her chest, and yet she wasn't able to refuse the man standing before her. "Yes, please, come inside."

Howard stepped up to t he door, opened it and stood to the side, allowing Michaela to enter first. She did and, walking toward her desk, she stopped at the other side of the room and turned toward him. Howard stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a thud. Loren, still watching from his store heard the noise and did not move.

Howard bent toward the handle of the door, thinking, trying to find the best words to be used, and then he realized that there weren't any wrong words to be used at this moment. He was laying it all on the line. There was no possible way he could lose here; he had the winning hand.

When he turned from the door, he met a set of mismatched eyes confronting him head on. They were curious eyes, suspicious eyes, and they were pained eyes. It was a pain that he'd seen buried beneath the surface the moment he met her, and yet it wasn't the pain, but her ability to mask it, to continue with it still buried that filled his thoughts. Howard began to dream of the break within her, the crushing of that strength so that all the pain bubbled to the surface. He wanted to be there when it happened, he wanted to be responsible for it, and he wanted to reap the rewards. He wanted Michaela Quinn, the strongest, most brilliant, and most beautiful of all women he'd ever met to _belong_ to him, to be at his beck and call.

Howard took three steps in her direction and stopped, his eyes roaming the length of her body, something he'd never done so openly before. The act did not go unnoticed by Michaela, who slowly moved around the back of her desk putting the large wood frame between him and her.

Then, as if he'd decided to change course, he placed his hand on the corner of her desk, leaning lazily over and crossing one foot in front of another. "Dr. Quinn I believe I can help you."

"Help me how?" It was amazing the speed with which she reacted to the danger in the air. Howard allowed himself the second to muse that she looked like a frightened doe, lost without protection, running from a mountain lion that threatened her life.

"I know what it is you prize more than anything else." He paused for a moment, but met only immovable eyes, waiting for him to continue for she would not speak. "I know how much your homestead means to you." He began to cross around the desk, "I know how precious the word _home_ is, that that is where you retreat to protect your family and raise your children. I know that it is your sanctuary," he spoke more intensely as he approached her, fast now as she backed away, though determinedly, from his challenging form. He lengthened his stride suddenly and in two steps stood over her, leaning down as he uttered the words she had never spoken. "I know that that homestead is the last and greatest thing you have of your late husband, that you've tied all of your memories of him to it, that it is the solid proof of the marriage that no longer exists."

Michaela ducked out of his grasp. "I hardly see what this has to do with anything." Howard took note that she did not discount his words. It was because they were true. For Michaela, the homestead that she retreated to at the end of her day was the closest thing to retreating into Sully's own arms. It gave her strength because it was created by Sully, he touched everything it was made of, gave it life and purpose. It was filled with his love for her, for their family. It was all that was left to Katie of her father, and though there was the prospect of Michaela loosing the homestead, a real prospect, she hadn't allowed herself the thoughts that flooded her mind now, not during the day at least.

"I can help you."

"I believe you've already said that, Mr. Howard." Michaela said, straightening her frame and clasping her hands before her. His lips curled into a grin.

"You know you're going to lose it all, don't you? Everything that he ever touched will be gone for the reason that he touched it. There is no stopping it; the evidence is too strong, his devotion to the Indians, his past issues with the army…" Howard allowed his voice to trail off. Michaela's face didn't change. "I can stop it." He grinned proudly, "If you say the word, I'll stop it, and you'll lose nothing." Michaela's eyebrows raised in interested and he knew he had her hooked.

"What words."

"Marry me." Howard relished the words in his mouth, saying them aloud and enjoying the look of horror overcome Michaela's face.

"I most certainly will not!"

"Just say the words and I'll telegram…"

"Mr. Howard!" Her voice shuddered through the wooden room, "This is a highly inappropriate conversation." Howard simply smiled. "I'd thank you to leave my clinic this instant." Her forehead wrinkled in anger as she pointed to the door.

"Think about it . Would you prefer to be separated from him forever? Or worse yet for the reputation that will placed on him with the verdict of guilty?"

"Mr. Howard!" she yelled, anger prominent in her voice, not able to hide anything. Howards simply nodded and turned for the door, smiling steadily. He knew she wouldn't say yes today, but it was only a matter of time.

Loren was still standing outside when Howard walked steadily out of the clinic, not seeming to have a care in the world. A few seconds later, Michaela emerged, looking little like the calm, confident man who had just left. Her quickening footsteps and stone features gave away the possibility that something had occurred behind the shut door. She never noticed Loren as she passed the mercantile.

* * *

Half an hour later, Sully stepped into the store. He stood, for a brief moment in front of the doorway, his eyes scanning the people standing in the musty room looking through cloth, books, lamp oil. A young girl at the corner of the room looked up at him and smiled before her attention dropped back to the selection of ribbons she was pondering over. A man nodded his hat in Sully's direction, and even Hank, who was exciting the store spoke a "hello" before brushing past him. For Sully it was obvious that Loren had done some work of his own. He was hardly faced with the same hostility that he'd met his first few days in town, and yet his identity had been preserved.

"Mr. Hawking." Loren spoke, starting toward him from where he'd just stepped out of the back room. The older man's eyes were narrow and concerned, a fact that made Sully stand a little straighter. He felt tension solidify in his bones.

"I came ta see if ya had anymore nails. I ran through the one's I had."

"I think I got some in the back." Loren took the opportunity given him and stepped to the back room, holding the curtain aside for Sully to enter first. "I got this for ya this mornin'." Loren whispered, handing Sully a letter once they were safely out of sight. The return address had been to Denver, written in Matthew's hand. Sully wasted no time in ripping the envelope open while Loren stood watching expectantly.

"Good news?"

Sully grunted, not speaking until his eyes raised from their reading, "he needs some kind of evidence, anything ta vouch for me. He says that the other lawyer's gonna have a lot a circumstantial evidence."

"What'll you give him?"

"I don't know, but I gotta think of somethin,' ta try and remember." Sully's brow creased in concern and his mind started racing through the annals of the past few years. He only halfway saw the door before him as he went to move through it, lifting the letter toward Loren, and nodding. "Thanks for this."

"Sully wait." Loren's voice held a sense of urgency that stopped Sully in his tracks. He had thought that the letter was all that Loren had, that it was the cause for concern, but it obviously wasn't. Sully slowly turned around, half-afraid of what it was that Loren would tell him next.

"Howard went ta see Dr. Mike this mornin." Loren spoke slowly, watching as the younger man's jaw tightened before his very eyes, twitching at the corners.

"And…"

"After he left Dr. Mike looked upset. I don't know what he said, but she left the clinic right after."

"Where is she now?"

"I don't know. From where she was headin' it looked like she went ta get Katie. I hadn't seen 'em in town since."

Sully didn't stop to thank his friend, but instead turned speedily from the doorway. Judging from the mindset Michaela had seemed to have been in recently, he had an idea of where she'd gone.

* * *

The rim of Sully's hat flipped up in front, threatening to blow off altogether as his horse ripped through the trees. The longer it took him to find Michaela, the more his heart constricted; his imagination running through all the different scenarios for what had happened in the clinic. Each getting worse than the one before.

The horse tore out of the dense trees and rushed down the path, the homestead just barely in the distance. At the bottom of the path, Sully come to a screeching halt, his eyes scanning rapidly back and forth against the horizon searching for something, anything that would give him an indication that he was right. Finally, he saw the lone wagon, parked in front of the porch.

It was Michaela's way. She'd never been one to back down from adversity. In fact, she'd spend the majority of her life fighting as if the world was a battlefield and her survival depended on her strength, because it had. However, just because she was strong enough to live to fight another day did not mean that she didn't get hurt in the process. There were days when Michaela wondered if her strength were fading before her eyes for the simple reason that there were times when she seemed accomplish nothing but suffering more injuries, but when those days occurred she simply retreated from the world. Home was always where she could lick her wounds in private surrounded by the people who would protect her while she healed. Her family always reminded her of the reasons she fought. Today was no different. After the unnerving conversation with Shelton Howard, Michaela had sought comfort in the only person who could provide it, Katie.

Michaela sat on a blanket under the shade of an apple tree at the edge of the orchard, a picnic basket opened at her side and plates of food sitting before her. She held a glass of sweet tea to her lips, but was preoccupied with something off in the distance.

"No, no Katie. Don't try and climb the tree." She sat a little straighter, leaning back and forth trying to catch a glimpse of the constantly moving frame of her two year old. She was so sidetracked; she missed the solid body walking toward her until he was standing right before her. "Mr. Hawking! Oh, I'd forgotten you'd be here." Her eyes fluttered shut in embarrassment. She hadn't really wanted to see anyone, and yet now that Hawking was standing before her, she couldn't find it within herself to send him away. She wanted him to stay and she didn't know why.

Sully just shrugged, trying to fight down his instinctual reaction to the tiredness and hurt that radiated from her body. He wanted to hold her, to tell her that it was all right to sleep, he'd watch over her. "I just went inta town ta get more nails." He nodded his head toward the house, "Gonna try to fix the roof next."

Her eyes followed his, "that be lovely. There's been a leak in the hallway upstairs for a while now." Sully nodded, still standing, awkwardly over her; Michaela caught her manners. "Oh, have you eaten lunch yet Mr. Hawking?" She wondered why she desperately wanted him to say no, and was pleased when he shook his head, and reprimanded herself for the thought. "Please join us, there's plenty."

"Are ya sure?"

"Certain, I was in a hurry so I just had Grace throw things into the basket for us. There's far too much." She scooted over on the blanket, opening space for him and solidifying her invitation.

Settling himself on the blanket, Sully watched as Michaela shot another glance over toward Katie. She was digging in the dirt. He thought that while Michaela was still alone with him, he'd have the best chance of finding out what exactly happened at the clinic. "So ya were in a hurry? I whaten expectin' ta see ya here this time a day."

Michaela visibly tensed beside him, and Sully began to wonder if she'd tell him anything at all. "It's nothing, really."

"Don't look like nothin'; it looked like it bothered ya."

"Um…" Michaela took a deep breath, gauging how comfortable she was telling this man something. She was; she was comfortable telling him everything though she couldn't explain it, but despite the trust that tried to thrust upon her, she didn't want to tell him everything. "I just had a visit by Mr. Howard today. He seemed to have some interesting views on things." She diverted her eyes to the fried chicken before her, pulling off a piece and placing it in her mouth.

"I seem ta be confused as to why Howard is here at all."

Another breath, "he's an attorney working for the army on my husband's case."

"His case?"

"He's on trial for treason. They believe that he instigated the assault that took his life."

"I see, and ya can trust this man?"

"Not really, but I did think he was harmless. Now I believe I may be wrong." The satisfaction in Howard's eyes appeared in her mind, sending chills down her spine. Thinking back over it, she felt more in danger now than she had then.

If Sully heard only one word of her sentence, it was the word 'harmless' for her to have said it, she believed there might have been 'harm' now. He turned to look at her, but her attention had been diverted to the little creature toddling toward her.

Katie's grin spread from ear to ear as she made a beeline toward her mother holding a white flower in front of her as if to show it off.

"What do you have?" Michaela asked, opening her arms for Katie to step inside. The little girl came to lean against her mother's shoulder and held the flower in front of them. Then she seemed to spot Mr. Hawking sitting at the other edge of the blanket, "It'th white," she told him. He couldn't help but smile at her brilliance, just like her ma.

Michaela easily pulled Katie's hand as well as the flower into her own, inspecting the flower from all sides. "That's called a chamomile. That's what I make the tea out of when you have a tummy ache." Katie wriggled her nose and screwed up her face knowing exactly what it was her ma was talking about; Sully laughed.

"I no like it." However, despite her words, she didn't seem bothered by the fact that as she spoke, Michaela had taken the flower from her and tucked it behind her ear. Katie reached up to feel the flower's petals.

"It looks pretty," Michaela told her. The little girl paused just a moment longer before running off again.

"Would you like a piece of chicken?" Michaela asked suddenly, as if just remembering Sully's presence once more and trying to fill the quietness between them. Perhaps she was aware that she was being closely observed for Sully hadn't said much of anything, but nodded when she handed him a plate of fried chicken.

Michaela nibbled on her own little piece and then pulled off another strip in time for Katie to come running back to them, another flower in hand. Katie stopped before them, but before she had a chance to say anything Michaela lifted the chicken up to her. The little girl just opened her mouth wide and devoured both the chicken and the tips of her mother's fingers. Her chubby, red-rimmed cheek vibrating steadily with each chew. Michaela turned for a cup of applesauce sitting on the blanket, and turned back just in time to have a yellow flower, roots and all dangling in front of her face.

"Whas thith?" Katie clasped the flower with a tight, dirty fist with mud-caked fingernails.

"That is a dandelion. The roots," Michaela pointed, "make your liver feel better." The flower lowered a little and Katie's eyes appeared over the top of it.

"Liver?"

"Yes, It's in your belly, right… there…" Katie dissolved into a fit of giggles as Michaela's fingers danced along the side of her rounded tummy, gliding over the organ with tickling strokes. Michaela laughed too, and Sully's eyes shot from Katie, who he had been watching intently, trying to memorize every little expression the girl made, to Michaela. He hadn't heard her truly laugh yet. The wrinkles of hardship around her eyes and mouth almost completely disappeared in the presence of her laughter. "No, no, come back." Michaela tugged on Katie's skirt before she had a chance to run off once more. Quickly, she dipped a spoon into the applesauce and, wiping the excess on the sides of the jar, deposited the tasty treat into Katie's waiting mouth. With a lick of her lips, Katie turned and ran off. Michaela took a bite of the applesauce herself before setting it back on the blanket.

"Ya sure do know a lot about plants." Sully mumbled before taking a bit to eat.

"I had the opportunity for a friend of mine, who was a Cheyenne Medicine man to teach me what he knew. I use it a lot in my practice."

"I'm surprise people let ya."

"Why is that?" The tone of defense obvious in her voice. Sully took the time to swallow what he was chewing before continuing.

"Just seems like not much folks wanna have Indian medicine."

"Mr. Hawking, there is nothing wrong with Cheyenne medicine."

Sully smiled; he remembered the influenza epidemic that struck the town not long after they met. Michaela had been reluctant then to use the teas he suggested, now she fought for their integrity. "I whaten sayin' there was. Just not much other folks stop ta think 'bout it like that." From under the brim of the hat, two eyes peered out at Michaela. They were partly hard to see for the shadow the brim cast across his face, but for a split second, he lifted he head and flashed her his direct gaze. Michaela was struck by the pure blueness that looked back at her, allowing her to see that there was no hostility for the herbs she used to practice her medicine. However, his message was lost, forgotten as the blue pierced her heart. _Almost like…_

Katie came toddling back with a handful of Purple Cone Flower, asking for a name, and receiving a piece of biscuit in addition to the answer.

At that moment, crackle of trees at the far side of the valley caught Sully's attention. He shot a glance to Michaela and Katie, who were distracted by their own interaction and then back to the rustling leaves. He lifted his arm, "Katie come here." The little girl's eyes shot up and she stepped over the folds of her mother's skirt in order to get to him.

When she arrived by his side, Sully gingerly wrapped one arm around her back, aware that this was the first time he had gotten to touch his daughter, and preventing himself from giving into the desire to hold her, and he leaned in, his other hand making gestures across the horizon.

"Ya see those leaves movin' all the way over there?" The brush of curls against his face announced her nod. "Just at the base of the tree, can ya see that spot of brown? That's a deer. He's eatin in the valley, trying ta get warm in the sunlight before it gets too cold tonight.

"Where doeth he live?"

"Bet he lives near here somewhere." Sully tilted his head up to her squinting in the sunlight and saw the blue orbs grow big in a gasp.

"Really?" He nodded.

Behind them, Michaela watched, not the deer, but her daughter and their mysterious new friend. Her chest tightened, and it was everything she could do not to leave them sitting there or worse yet, pull Katie away. They were so perfect, the two of them standing there together, Mr. Hawking telling Katie about the deer and the girl listening to him with bated breath. Tears that Michaela was unable to control sprang to her eyes. That was Sully's place with Katie, not Hawking's. Sully was supposed to be the one to tell Katie about these things, to capture her imagination the way he had done Brian, to enrich her, and Michaela still wanted to reserve that place for Sully, though she knew the place would never been filled. Dropping her head to inspect the jar of applesauce once more, she took another bite. Trying to swallow the tears along with the creamy sauce.

That was the moment that Katie had turned Sully's attention back to Michaela, as she sat bent over the jar, the bright afternoon sun surrounding her, making her look as though she sparkled. Her caramel hair, frizzing around her head from the braid that curled over her shoulder seemed to shine golden, and a sprig of purple coneflower jutted from behind her ear where Katie had place it earlier.

"Mommy pretty." Katie announce, putting into words what Sully was thinking. The voice caught Michaela's attention and she looked up to realize she was being watched. Sully immediately recognized the sparkle of unshed tears in her eyes, and realized their reason and his role in their existence. However, he also recognized that the mere presence of the glisten in her eyes spoke of the woman she was, the strength, compassion, kindness, and the protectiveness of her family. She was unlike anything he'd ever met.

"Yea, she is." He whispered.

* * *

So There is Chapter... I think I've lost count... six? I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry I didn't update sooner, I got sidetracked playing with my new iphone this week!


	8. Speaking of You

**Chapter 7**

**Speaking of You**

_-"What he said to me when he left his native land was this. He clasped my right hand by the wrist, and said, 'My wife, I do not think all our brave men will come back from Troy…so I do not know if God will spare me or if I shall fall in the Trojan land. I leave you the care for all that is here."-_

Sully's feet drug up the front of the steps, first one then two until he was finally standing on the porch. He was exhausted. After lunch, he had spent the majority of the afternoon inspecting the roof, ripping up the old wooden shingles that has begun to rot over the years. It had proven to be quite a task, one that wouldn't have been quite as challenging if it had been kept up over the years, but Sully hadn't been able to keep it up, and chances were that Michaela hadn't thought of it until there was a problem. Therefore, it ultimately resulted in an afternoon spent on his knees, arguing with nails and wood, and now, Sully was incredibly sore.

Over the past two years Sully's body had weakened under the strain of being sick and it had grown out of the habit of some of the hard exercise with which he had been accustomed to. He hadn't noticed it much; his body kept up with what he asked of it. However, on days such as today, when he tried to perform to the level that he was once used to, he could tell a difference as his muscles tired and his movements became more lethargic. He wasn't going to back down, though; his body would adjust, strengthen once again. He only had to be patient, something that he had never had a problem with before, but now it seemed to be different, Sully felt as if he were racing against a clock, trying to beat an adversary her couldn't identify.

Sully took the opportunity before he reached the door to stretch his arms, lifting one across his chest and feeling the pull in his shoulders. It helped to loosen the stiffness. Shaking his arms out, he turned the knob and stepped into the kitchen.

The first breath he took introduced him to the wonderful smell of beef stew and his stomach clenched, reminding him that he was indeed very hungry. He followed the smell to the kitchen where Michaela, once again, was bent over the stove. She stirred the mixture in the big pot, banging the ladle on the side twice before replacing the lid and setting the rag wrapped around the handle, and the ladle on the counter. Wiping her hands on the edge of her apron, she turned, having heard him enter.

"Good evening, Mr. Hawking, please, have a seat." She nodded toward the table before moving to a loaf of fresh bread sitting on the counter, she picked up a knife and began slicing it.

"Mizer 'awkin'!" Katie's screech bounded into the room, almost seeming to get to the kitchen before she ever got there herself. She hooked her hands on the edge of the table, and pulled herself to her tiptoes, through the fingers of her right hand ran a wadded piece of cloth that ran off the table and, unseen by Sully, fanned out as some of it threatened to drag the ground.

"Hi." She giggled, hiding her mouth behind the edge of the table and peering over the maple at him.

"Hey, Miss Katie." The little girl giggled. Michaela didn't say anything; she hadn't turned from the bread she was cutting, but she was listening, waiting for anything like…

"You pway wif me?" … her daughter's next question. Sully was caught off guard for a brief moment. He was torn, first by the excitement of having his little girl looking so directly, unashamedly at him asking him a question similar to what she might have asked him any day before today, yet, she had no idea of its true meaning. She simply needed something and looked to him to provide it for her, and while every inch of his body wanted to give her a few minutes of his undivided attention, the constant ache in his back and legs warned him against it.

"Katie, Mr. Hawking has been working all afternoon, I'm sure he's very tired." Sully's attention drew to Michaela, but she was staring at Katie, she bent over and lifted the girl away from the table and wrapped the cloth up, filling Katie's arms with the material. "Why don't you take your blankie out of the kitchen so it doesn't get messy. I want to look at the cut on Mr. Hawking's arm anyway." The disappointed eyes looked up at her, but then turned and ran out of the room. "Would you mind?" Michaela asked, gesturing to his arm as she moved to grab her medical bag.

The familiar worn bag, crackling at it joints rested on the table next to his arm and Michaela sat at the end of the table with a pair of bandage scissors. Sully's eyes ran over the bag, remembering the item as something linked completely to Michaela, carried with her everywhere. It, sitting at the dining table was the sign to him that she was home after a long days work. It had been the first thing he noticed of the new woman in town. He had watched her standing on the porch of the old homestead as she pulled her name plaque out of the familiar bag and, snapped it shut again with her nimble fingers.

Sully felt the smooth metal of the scissors slide between his arm and bandage, cutting away the thin material. Instead of choosing to watch Michaela's hands run across his arm, Sully focused all of his attention at the bag, running his free hand along the edge of the metal clasp. He didn't notice when the chair on the other side of Michaela moved away from the table, but soon Katie's head bobbed up, over the table and she leaned across the flat top on two elbows, watching the methodic motion of the scissors.

"Ya came back…" Sully teased lightly, shifting his attention from the black medical bag.

"I put bwankie up."

"Blankie?"

"Yea." Now, the subtle smile stretched Michaela's face as she concentrated on her task.

"Blankie is our special toy; we can't sleep without it, can we?" Michaela upturned her eyes to Katie, who shook her head gravely, never taking her eyes off Hawking. From there, Michaela's eyes flicked to him. She could see his smile as he looked down on the little girl, and she couldn't help but wonder more about the man sitting in front of her. In fact, as she realized, there was much to learn of him. He seemed to know more about her than she of him. She had observed his quiet and gentle nature, especially with Katie, and Michaela couldn't help but wonder if he'd had a child at home similar to her daughter's age. Michaela found herself wanting to smile when she was around him, smile in a way she hadn't in the longest time, and as exciting and fresh it felt for her, it pained her as well. She found herself unwilling to forget Sully. After his death she had retreated into a world built of her own accord; it was her protection from the pain, it was her assurance to survival, and it was her source of strength that embraced her family as well. It had been necessary, but now it was so much easier to stay in that world than to walk into the open. Here, she would not be hurt, but as she sat there in her kitchen, she was aware that her world had been made of wood and nails, and it was aflame, crumbling around her.

"Have you felt any pain in your arm?" Hawking shook his head.

With a gentle tug of her wrist, she opened the bandage and exposed the wound, and angry gash led up the center of pinkish flesh with black lines of silken sutures winding around the raised skin. Katie was the first to speak, leaning, almost over her mother's shoulder she looked back at Hawking with a smile stretched across her face. "It no wed!"

Both Michaela and Sully laughed, "That's right Katie, there doesn't appear to be any infection."

"Nope." The caramel curls bounced across her cheeks as she shook her head. She was so adorable that Sully couldn't help but reach out and lift her chin a little.

"Ya are ya ma's little girl, ain't ya?" Katie just smiled, not really bothering with the question. "Ya learn a lot from her?" His eyes strayed to Michaela as he spoke. She sat with blazen red cheeks, but that added all the more to the affect. Michaela Quinn was wonderful mother.

Katie took a deep breath, pulling from his hand and leaning toward her ma. "Mommy ith tho thmart, and I gonna be too!"

Sully just smiled, _If ya are, you'll be the luckiest girl in the world to learn to be as smart as your ma, but you're already learning aren't ya? Ya're becoming more like her every day."_

As soon as it took Michaela to finish a new bandage there was another, smaller set of hands grasping his arm. Katie looked at him with pleading eyes. "You pway now?"

Unable to say no, Sully nodded, and rose to follow the giggling child into the next room.

* * *

There was no sound but the soft crinkle of the bristles running the length of the coppery locks, pushing aside tangles and leaving the smooth strains with just a hint of frizz. That was all; even the usual snap of fire had faded as the flames died in the hearth.

Michaela sat at her vanity wearing her nightgown. She stared, head tilted to one side, at herself in the mirror as she made the methodical stroke from the root of her hair to the ends. Underneath her stool, a pair of two bare feet were crossed and folded back, toes bent under the heavy weight of her legs. They held the tingling sensation of coldness caught between the cold air and the chilled wooden floor. Michaela ignored the early blue rays of morning light struggling to filter into her bedroom. Instead, she focused on the movements of her hands. After a restless night, she had found herself brushing her hair, partly because there was nothing else to do, and because of the comforting aspect, though she had to admit the act lost most of its comfort without Sully's hands being the one to brush her hair. Instead, though she wouldn't allow herself to think deep enough to consider it, she was seeking the comfort not of the motion, but of her husband's wisdom, which usually presented itself during the grooming routine. The brushing didn't help any; instead, Michaela's mind kept fluttering back to the same direction it had been drawn all night. Shelton Howard.

"_I can help you."_ The timber of his voice made her stomach clench. Help. Help; was that what he was calling it? Wasn't it something more along the lines of Blackmail? Yet, there wasn't anything she could do about it; his words held a level of truth. She was now becoming certain that Sully would be found guilty, that everything would be taken from her, everything that Sully and she had built together over the years. It was all to vanish in the blink of an eye.

The thought of it all, of packing it into boxes and crates, of walking away from the homestead of… of seeing someone else live in it; Michaela's hand tightened on the brush, stopping in mid motion. Her breath seemed to catch in her chest, and a tingling took over that tickled through her chest. Setting the brush on the top of the dresser with two shaking hands, Michaela pressed her palms against the cold wood and leaned forward. "I can't, I can't." she mumbled continuously losing her breath more with each word until she was gasping for air. Her eyes squeezed tightly together as she counted to herself the seconds of the clock ticking over the mantle. "In…out…in…out."

Shifting suddenly on her stool so that her head rested in her hands, she heard the second part of the conversation, "_Marry me."_ It was a horrible proposition, but in some twisted way, the pain of this seemed much more manageable then loosing the last of Sully's goodness in a web of lies. Michaela shook her head fiercely, slamming her hands down on the desk so hard that the perfume bottles rattled.

"I'm not even considering this." She whispered aloud, letting herself hear how truly absurd it all was. She shot up from the vanity with a violence that turned the stool over backwards. She had to get out, to get away. It was all compounding on top of her. She moved across the room, trying her best not to notice the empty bed with rumpled sheets. As hard as she tried to rest, each time she closed her eyes, Sully appeared before her, never speaking but smiling with the gentle twinkle that shimmered in his eyes. He would reach out and touch her and it felt so real, and she wanted it so bad. She wanted him to touch her, to take her and love her and promise that all would be ok come morning, but each time she opened her eyes the constant shudder of the January air clung to her skin. She was alone.

The armoire doors opened at the gentlest touch and Michaela came to face the worn leather fringe of the familiar buckskin coat. It caught her off guard for just a moment, stealing her breath, staring at her like a horrible joke before she collected herself enough to thrust the coat, hanger and all, to the back of the armoire before pulling out a warm ensemble herself. Today seemed as good as any to go on rounds. She hoped that being out in the open, free from constraints would do her justice.

A few minutes later, the clanking of equipment below him woke Sully, who rolled over lazily from where he had slept, as usual, before the window looking out to the homestead. The early winter light was still a muted gray; it looked like it was barely 6:30. Sitting up groggily, he listened, and heard the rattle of a saddle and the soft hum of talking. The voice sounded like Michaela's soothing drone.

It helped to talk aloud, about something, anything, or nothing. Michaela found that if she could talk fast enough she could manage to dismiss the thoughts that her mind drifted to, and fill them with senseless words. Flash merely nuzzled as if she were listening, regardless of the fact that Michaela was making sense, or not.

"Yes, yes, what a good girl. Are you ready to go on some house calls? You'll get a little exercise." Her fingers worked nimbly over the rigging, speaking on a linear topic, and when she straightened from tightening the underneath straps her eyes hit another figure standing a few steps off the ladder at the other end of the barn. Sam Hawking had already dress and put on his hat. Michaela vaguely wondered if he slept in it. She'd never seen him without it, but with a shake of her head, she dismissed the thought.

"Ya're up early." Hawking stepped off the ladder, strolling over toward her and leaning against a wooden beam next to Flash's stall.

Michaela returned to her task with an urgency that matched her motions from before. Sully recognized the frantic movements as near panic to complete her task as if her life depended on it. Her eyes didn't lift to him as she spoke, "I'm going on rounds this morning. There is a little breakfast on the stove for everyone, and Brian will take care of Katie and drop her off at Mrs. Calloway's before he goes to school."

"All right…" He was unable to control the alarm in his voice. With a glance up, she flash him a smile, though it was empty and held no reassurance. She didn't stop to recognize this, either. With a quick tug on the reigns, she led Flash outside and it took another thirty seconds before she was galloping down the pathway, disappearing into the hills.

* * *

Michaela did her best to keep busy for the day. She made house calls until well after lunch. Mrs. Thurmon needed to have her broken leg looked at. Tom Walker had gotten dizzy the day before while out in his field. Little Suzie Guthrie's cold was just beginning to get better. When Michaela did finally manage to get back into town, reminding herself of the stack of files that needed to be updated, she stuck her head into Mrs. Calloway's to say a sweet hello to Katie who threw her arms around her mama's neck and didn't really want her to leave again, but gave in eventually. Michaela finished her day around five o'clock.

Sully had very much a similar day. Trying to lay low and still determined that the adjustments to the homestead really did need to be fixed, and soon (he didn't want his family to have to 'make-do'), he'd spent all day working diligently on the roofing. It was interesting the way the warm rays of the sun made the sweat run down his back even though it was January. He'd had to shed his coat mid-morning. However, despite the heat and sweat, he began to once again to enjoy the strain of his muscles against opposing forces. He'd lost complete track of time when Michaela arrived home with Katie, but he'd finished his task. He had replaced all the shingles that he'd removed the day before, but now, as he sat back, considering the other, older wood, he began to wonder if it might not be better to replace the roof entirely. The day was done, though, and whatever decisions Sully made would be made the next day. It was early evening, and it was time to spend with his family.

Michaela's strained and stressed movements that morning had haunted Sully all day. There were moments when he, watching his own hands moving calmly over the nails and hammer, could see hers, shaking and frantic. It wasn't right that he should be allowed the calmness and her the anxiety. The thought came to him many times, the last when he sat at the kitchen table, watching her cook with the same tensed frame as earlier, that it would be better if he told her, if he told her everything. Would it relieve any of the pressure? Or would it simply add another pressure of an equally great magnitude? Sully couldn't pin down the answer; at this point, having watched her for days, she seemed to be only a muted, unstable version of the Michaela he remembered. Sully wasn't sure how she would react; he wasn't sure how she would react to anything and that thought bothered him more than anything else. Could he, in two years have forgotten so much about his Heartsong? He had been shocked when he realized how her physical appearance had faded into blurry lines that only outlined who she was instead of the stark uniqueness in which she existed. Had it happened with her personality as well? At first, Sully wanted to say no, he had known her so well that the mere sound of her footsteps told him of her day. But the harshness of it was that when he was around her, Sully felt a sense of uneasiness, as if he was going to fail in his reading of her.

All of these worries filled his mind, making him unable to rest, though his body had the pleasant ache of a job done well, and it was because he couldn't sleep that he sat up, preparing to stare out the window for another night but found, instead, the bright light of the kitchen glowing steady, like a beacon in the stormy seas. It was late, far too late for the kids to be up, almost midnight, and so when the slender shadow glided in front of the window, Sully felt his heart leap. Even with his disguise, he yearned to find those stolen moments with Michaela. Even if he couldn't hold her or kiss her, he desired to hear her voice speaking to him. Even if he could have her lay next to him at night, he wanted to see the beauty of her face. Sully didn't think twice as he left the loft and travelled, almost running, the path to the house.

* * *

Michaela cracked the side door and peered around the corner. Once she recognized Hawking on the other side, though she opened it wider, the slight flicker of worry creeping into her eyes.

"Mr. Hawking. Is something the matter?"

Sully shook his head, letting the smallest of smiles slant his mouth as he stared at her hand, resting on the edge of the door. "Nah, I just saw the light on. Thought it was a little late so I thought I'd come up ta see if everythin' was alright."

Michaela instantly turned red and dropped her eyes to the floor, "um… everything is fine. It's just one of those nights." It was all the explanation needed really. The idea was that it was quickly accompanied by a "Well, I thought I'd just check," followed by a "thank you," and then a "good night, now." However, that's not how the conversation played out. Instead, the words died on each of their lips. Hawking did not move, and Michaela was in no hurry to push him away. Finally, regathering her strength to look at him, she stepped back from the door, "Would you like a cup of tea? I've just put some on."

One duck of his head, similar to Sully's manner, announced that Hawking would accept her offer. She stepped aside and he passed through.

The interior of the homestead was low lighted, a single kerosene lamp sat at the center of the table, illuminating a few leather journals lying at its base. Warmth emanated from a fire in the hearth. There was a coziness, a safety that filled the room. While Michaela moved to pull two cups out of the cupboard, Sully sat at the table, his hands curiously gravitating to the table and, lifting the first journal, he skimmed the words written in Michaela's elegant scroll.

_By the time I reached the train station, I was both angry and worried. Angry because he had come to Boston, into what was once my world and proven to me that I no longer belonged there, no matter how hard I tried, and worried because of the way he left. I can't say that the thought didn't cross my mind as I boarded the train. Had I lost him? I'm sure you know the answer to that question Katie because you are here for me to write to. _

Sully thumbed a few pages forward.

_A piece of land for each of the women, that was your father's plan and it worked. Though I lost the election, we had won the women of Colorado Springs the right to vote._

And further…

_You father was the first to hold you when you came into this world, and the first to kiss you. When he looked up to me to tell me how very beautiful you were, his eyes were filled with tears. I cannot begin to tell you, Katie, that he dreamed of you long before you could begin imagine, or I may ever fully understand. You were the final completion to his life._

"They're for Katie." Michaela's soft voice broke Sully's reading. As she set a cup of tea before him, he shut the book closed. "After my husband's death my greatest fear became the day she would ask me a question about him and I wouldn't remember the answer. So I started these." Sitting herself, she lifted the other book off the table. "I started from the beginning and wrote as much as I could remember. Everyday seems to bring another story to add to the back. I had to start the other journal a few months ago."

"Ya know, ya're a good ma. She'll treasure these one day."

"Everyone needs to know who they came from."

Michaela's words made Sully think, for just a brief moment of his own parents. It had taken him years to find his own identity, but not to just find it for he had to create it. He had chiseled one from the Cheyenne culture that protected him, but over the years another identity as father and husband happened upon him. Now, it was as if the two identities fought for his soul.

"Ya're right." His eyes narrowed, "who did Katie come from?" Michaela shifted uncomfortably in her chair and stared at her cup.

"Sully was the wisest, most gentle, open minded person I ever met. When I first met him, he spoke very little, but what he did say was usually profound. He lived with the Cheyenne, and was completely immersed in their culture. He knew all of their stories and traditions and even spoke their language. He often went along with them to treaty signings as a translator. He was one of the few men who took the Indian's best interest to heart." Michaela paused long enough to glance up, her lashes, dark with tears flattening just under her brow. Her eyes glistened, but the rosiness of her cheeks and gentle smile of pride told Sully the truth. If anything, this conversation, with a complete stranger, who was just there to listen would help her to heal.

"Is that what caused his death?"

Michaela's face glazed for just a moment before her eyes fell back to her hands, "Yes, how did you…?"

"It was a guess. You said that he was on trial for responsibility for the assault that took his life and that it was treason."

Michaela reached for the journal sitting directly before her. Her fingernails sank into the leather binding. She had to pause a minute, to collect herself, but the thought of not continuing never crossed her mind. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him everything because she couldn't hold it in any longer.

"He left in May about a week before Katie's first birthday. I remember him standing her on the table and telling her that she had to wait until he came back for her to take her first steps. I didn't want him to go. There was something that didn't feel right, but I thought I was being ridiculous. He was going to accompany a transport moving some Cheyenne north of here. It was supposed to only take a week; He promised he would be back before her party." Her lips rolled in, disappearing into her mouth as she bit back against her emotions.

"He didn't come home?"

She shook her head, wiping a stray tear that rolled down her cheek. "Instead of him coming home that Friday, I got a telegram saying that the transport had been missing. Matthew and I rode out the next day. We finally found the transport four days later; it was horrible. Everyone still lying where they fell, but Sully was nowhere to be found."

Sully watched as she gradually went back through those long weeks. Until now, he had only imagined what it had been like for her and the kids. He could only imagine how they found out, what they thought when they couldn't find him. He had tried not to think about it, but now he came face to face with Michaela's reality. Her pain had yet to end. "Did ya ever find 'im?"

"No, we had to come home within the week. It was Katie's birthday." A bitter smile shook across her lips. "Katie kept her promise. She didn't walk until the day after her birthday. Sully would have seen it if he'd come home." Her grin fell. "We didn't give up though. I wouldn't give up. I was so certain that he was out there, somewhere. I should have been able to feel it if something happened, but I never did." Her words were confirmation of her faith in him, in what they had.

Sully had thought she'd finished, the way she sat and sipped her tea. He too fell into the silent contemplation of the moment, and so he was surprised when she spoke once more. "It was Christmas when I stopped searching. After almost six months of knowing nothing, we'd come in from a weekend of looking, moving from town to town and asking question. When I went to be that night, I knew that it was over. He wasn't coming home because if he could have, he would have been there for Christmas. Our family was always together for Christmas. I went to bed that night, and then it had all suddenly become so real. Getting out of bed the next morning was the hardest thing I have ever done. It was starting over, really starting over without any hope and I was so certain that I couldn't find the strength."

_You're the strongest woman I know._ "It looks like ya made it through." She nodded slowly, but not a glimmer of pride flashed in her eyes. They were just filled with dead tears.

Another pause brought another question from Sully, one that he wanted to know more than anything. "Do ya think he did it?" His eyes lifted to her face and for the first time he looked directly at her unhiding. His desire to know outweighed his fear of discovery. However, Michaela instantly shook her head.

"No. My husband was a man of his word. He never would have promised to be home for Katie's birthday if he didn't think he could keep it. He would have told me."

"So ya think they're…"

"They need someone to blame." She spoke softly, "And he was the one caught in the middle. His integrity and desire for the right to prevail was his downfall." Her face crumpled now as a sign of what it was that pained her soul. She was slowly healing from Sully's death, but it was the stress and constant pressure, uncertainty of the trail that weighed heavy on her spirit. Her voice was a tight squeak as she tried to stay in control. "They're going to take everything, our home, our land, and I can't stop it. I can't stop any of it, and Katie doesn't understand. She's not going to know why we have to leave her home, and Brian has to deal with so much. It's not fair to him!" She sniffed harshly, and covered her eyes with her hand.

Sully felt his heart thudding in his chest and he reached out to cover her hand with his, hoping for a comforting motion, but she pulled her hand away as soon as the contact was made. His breath hitched and he grasped the table a little harder. Looking on her with an expression that matched her pain, he hastily thought through his options. Another thought crossed his mind. If he came forward as being alive, wouldn't the trail shift from his home to him? Wouldn't they put him on trial to face jail time? Would that be a better option? Somehow, watching Michaela before him told him it would make everything worse. He did his best to think rationally for the next question.

"Do ya have a place ta go if ya can't stay here?"

A sniff and a nod was his reply before she found her voice. "Brian will be going to college in the fall. It's going to be a joint effort between his grandmother, Matthew and I but he'll be going. My clinic is in my name only. They can't touch that, so Katie and I can move there." She took a deep breath, "but that isn't it. Sully built this house. This is him; all I have left of him. Do I have to lose this as well? How will I ever tell Katie everything? How can I make her understand?" She leaned over the table urgently as she shook the journal in her hand.

"Ya will. Ya don't need the homestead to be a good ma."

Michaela simply stared at Hawking, no emotion crossing her face except the blink of tiredness. _But I need it to survive. I need his strength._ Then the thought over Howard's earlier conversation crossed her mind, and she bowed her head in embarrassment for what she would say next. "Shelton Howard seems to believe the only way I can save my home is to agree to marry him."

Sully was certain his mouth dropped in disbelief, not only because Howard had made the suggestion. He was hardly surprised at that development, but because the idea stuck with Michaela long enough for her to mention it again. He couldn't help but glance at her again, reconsidering her emotional status. "Are ya really thinkin' 'bout it?"

Michaela dropped the journal on the table with a hollow thud and rose from the table, taking her cup with her. Her motions, once again were unsettled. "Of course not, that's ridiculous." She spoke harshly. She was angrier with herself because she knew it was ridiculous, but she couldn't banish the thought from her mind.

After rinsing out the cups and putting them away, Michaela leaned on the counter, her head leaning down. "Mr. Hawking it's late."

Sully took the clue and rose from his seat. He stared at her back, hunched with exhaustion and pain for a moment before repeating his faith from earlier. "Ya don't need the homestead to be a good ma." He didn't see the way her head lifted, listening, _hearing_ his words. He left for the door. Michaela quickly followed as if driven by a desire to ask one, just one question. She caught him before the door shut.

"Mr. Hawking, you told me that you had a family. What happened to them?"

Sully's lips curled, "I love my wife an' children. They kept me goin' on days I just wanted ta lay down an die, but we been a part a long time. I don't know if they're still out there. If they want me back." With the tumble of the last phrase from his lips, he felt something connect with Michaela that wasn't there before. There was a strain of understanding that didn't darken her eyes, but made them shine.

"Then you understand what I mean when I say night is the worst."

The lonely nights of the past flashed before Sully's eyes. "Yea, I know what ya mean."

* * *

There's our next chapter! I hope you liked it guys!


	9. To Forget My Troubles

**Chapter 8**

**To Forget my Troubles**

_-"Ah that soft slumber that made me forget my troubles. O that holy Artemis would grant me at this moment a death soft like that, so that I might no longer waste my days in mourning, no longer miss my dear husband and his incomparable goodness, for there never was a man like him!"-_

Brian walked slowly up the hill to the homestead, holding the milk pale before him with both hands. His eyes trained on the thickness of the white fluid as it sloshed back and forth in the wooden bucket swinging on the rope handle. Slowing his footsteps, Brian managed to minimize the sloshing of the warm liquid. He managed, step one, step two, and then to make it through the front door, without spilling a drop.

"I brought ya some milk in, Ma." He stated, entering the kitchen and setting the bucket on the counter.

Michaela, who was bent over yet another breakfast, threw a glance at him over her shoulder and, making a final stir of the oatmeal, opened a cabinet next to her leg and pulled out a brown, clay jug. "Thank you Brian. Would you mind pouring it out for me?"

"Yea, sure. Ya want me to pour a glass for Katie an me for breakfast?"

"I think all four of us will have some this morning." Michaela said decisively, rolling her eyes at herself in the process. Why could she be so decisive about this, but not anything that really mattered?

As Brian complied happily with his ma's request, the front door opened and shut.

"Hey Brian." The now familiar note of friendliness filled Hawking's voice as he walked into the kitchen. The boy looked up and grinned in response. It was a grin reminiscent of the time before Michaela and Sully's marriage, when the little boy's friend would stop by for an early morning meal and perhaps a fishing trip. Sully recognized the similarity, but the fact was lost on Brian.

Sully's eyes shifted from Brian to Michaela, who stood, having just removed her cooking pot from the stove, covering a yawn with the edge of her dishrag. "Good mornin' Dr. Quinn. Did ya sleep well?" He asked pointedly, eyeing her obvious exhaustion. The dark lines under her eyes were more pronounced, and, of course, her attempt to hide her gaping mouth was a give away to her tiredness.

Michaela, however, matched his gaze. Her eyes narrowed to openly, meet his ironic joke as if a challenge. "I slept very nicely, thank you." The curl of her eyebrow dared Hawking to make mention of the night before, of her weakness, and her uncertainty.

Brian, his eyes settled firmly on his task, missed the meaningful look that swapped between the two adults. He didn't realize that Hawking's words were not entirely innocent, and that Michaela's answer was merely for show. Instead, he looked up, taking the brown jug in his hands in order to pour for the glasses.

"Whaten it late when ya went ta bed, ma? I remember hearin' ya come up the stairs."

Michaela just shrugged, removing bowls from the cabinet. "It was a little later, but I had something I was working on." Her eyes sank to her hands, in shame. She'd never wanted to lie to Brian, but she also never wanted him to have to worry for her either. She was, after all the adult, the parent. It was up to her to handle it all, as it should be, and her desire for Brian's peace of mind shone greater than her need to unload.

Brian, however, knew the difference. He knew something was wrong, even if he didn't know what, and the frustration slipped over his face as he flashed a look toward Hawking as if proving his point from their earlier conversation-_ She tried to keep everything the same for me and Katie, ta do everything and be everythin' for us; she still does-_ before turning with the glasses, and utensils, for the dining table.

Michaela too was tense as she turned from the counter with the bowls. She, unlike Brian, however, attempted to avoid Hawking's gaze, though she didn't know why. Usually she cared little of what others thought of her or her decisions. There was a well thought out reason behind everything she did, and she didn't stand to be questioned. She was competent and responsible, and this was no different. Her family was just that: hers.

It was only when Michaela turned from the counter that she noticed the hammer in Hawking's hands. "Is everything alright?" She motioned to the tool. Stepping back, she let Brian step in before her and take the cooking pot while waiting for the answer, manipulating her body as to keep Hawking in her line of sight.

"Uh, yea." Sully having forgotten himself that he was holding the item lifted it. "While I was workin' yesterday, the handle cracked. Was wonderin' where I could get it repaired 'fore it broke in two."

Michaela stepped forward and took the tool from him, examining the wooden handle. Sully's head bent over the item too and pointed to the crack. His hand was nudged out of the way by Michaela's fingers as they felt along the disfigured surface. "Oh, I see." And then straightening. "If you don't mind, I'll take this with me today and have it fixed."

"I don't mean ta cause ya trouble."

"Oh it's no trouble at all. Robert E may even have it done by lunch."

"That'd be nice. Thank ya."

Michaela looked up to meet his gaze in acknowledgement of his thanks, having forgotten her fear of judgment from earlier, but found herself paralyzed. She rarely took the opportunity to gaze into the blueness of this man's eyes, but when she did, she was trapped. She found herself unable to move, to break the gaze, for she felt that the man before her somehow could see into her own soul, and that made her uncomfortable. Michaela had done her very best to forget the last time she felt the way she did now, standing before this man. She didn't want to remember how that felt, the absence of those feelings would prove to be just as agonizing as it was the first weeks after Sully's disappearance, and she certainly didn't want to feel it again. Somehow, this on top of everything else made it all unbearable. Sully seemed to be fading from her life too quickly.

"Katie!" Brian's burst of laughter broke Michaela from her trance and she turned quickly from the glistening eyes and moved toward the den. There she, soon followed by Hawking, found Katie standing at the bottom of the steps, her dress plain and high necked in the front had been donned backwards and tied at her waist with a hair ribbon of mismatched color. Her little warm petticoat was sitting so low that it drug the ground under her dress and a woolen cap sitting sideways on her head completed the ensemble.

Katie merely looked at her mother's wide eyes and broadening smile and mistook the humor for pride. "I dress me!" She announced excitedly, throwing both arms out.

Sully watched the little girl with a broad grin, not seeing the dressing debacle, but her intelligence and happiness, and, more importantly, the way she made Michaela laugh, which he hadn't heard in such a long time.

"Katie, sweetie don't you think the hat is a little hot?" Michaela began to make her way over the little girl, bending lower to the girl's level. Katie's face, however, instantly fell.

"You no like it?"

"I do, but I'm not sure that it'll be comfortable to wear into town today." Michaela knelt before her, hands already reaching up the little skirt to adjust the woolen underskirt. As she pulled and tugged, straightening the fabric and readjusting the seams, Katie began to squirm more and more, her eyes trailing over to the table.

"Katie, hold still."

"Hungry." She whimpered.

"You'll get to eat in just a minute." The reassurance didn't do much at all, as Katie began to jump up and down "Mommeeee!"

"Alright, alright." With the last button closed, she scooped Katie into her arms, nestling the girl on her hip as she moved back to the table where Brian and Hawking had already taken their seat, though both men were watching them intently. After depositing Katie into her high chair, Michaela took her own seat, and once again, they all sat together, to have a family breakfast.

* * *

The January air was crisp and rigid, the harsh wind was drying against already cold, chapped skin. Katie loved the cold weather, but that usually only counted when she got to sleep in the big bed with Mommy where it was warm, and they would watch the snowfall out the window and she got to hear the story of the snow princess. At the current moment, however, there stood no barrier between her and the biting wind except for the "oh so warm" curve of her ma's neck. This was where, she chose to bury her face in an attempt to elude the chill.

Michaela felt the two little arms wrapped around her neck tighten and the warm breath trickle into the collar of her overcoat from the rosy little nose. She tightened her own hold on the little girl, and, holding the hammer in the hand that balanced Katie, used the other to shield her ear and cheek. Her eyes focused more steadily on the forge, and the heavenly glow of the fire reddening the coals.

"Are you ready to see Robert E?" She lowered her mouth to whisper into the little ear and suddenly the head popped up, straining to see in the direction they were going. As they got closer, Katie began to squirm.

"Down, down!" She was relentless until the ground grew closer to her feet, and she barely recognized the solidness of the near frozen ground before she had taken off into the shelter of the darkened forge. "Wobert E.!!" She squealed.

Michaela entered behind her with just enough time to see the big, sturdy man drop his tools to the side and bend to catch the running girl. He dropped to his knee and with a scoop, a little larger than necessary; he deposited her to sit on his knee.

Katie giggled, staring up at the familiar face, her legs swinging wildly under the curve of his leg. "Hi!" She exclaimed, clapping her hands in a giggle.

"How is Miz Katie this morning'?"

"Fine…" Another giggle, and Robert's E. joined in as well. He reached out and brushed the hair out of her face.

"Ya know now that little Tommy is getting' better, he's been wonderin' when the next time ya're gonna come spend the night is." The little blue eyes cut to Michaela, who was smiling brightly. It did her good to see how loved Katie was by the town. It was as if she had a readymade family created for her the moment of her birth, and the family only strengthened over time. Robert E. often took little moments to dote of his goddaughter, and when Katie got to stay at his and Grace's (Katie particularly liked it when Grace cooked) she rarely went home with the realization that their Tommy was any more special to them being their only child than she was as their goddaughter. Michaela had to admit that choosing godparents for Katie when she was christened was one of the best things she and Sully had ever done.

"Can I, Mommy?"

Michaela chuckled, "I'll talk to Ms. Grace and see what we can plan."

"Yay!" Katie's arms shot straight into the air and even Robert E. laughed at her. Shaking her in a soft tickle, he pulled her form his knee and, standing up, balanced her against his chest as he turned his attention to Michaela.

"What can I do for ya, Dr. Mike?"

She lifted the hammer out. "I was hoping that you'd have time to stabilize the hammer? Mr. Hawking has been using it for the repairs, but I'm afraid that there's a crack." She shifted the handle so that the crack was visible in her hand.

Robert E. nodded, "I can have that for ya at about two."

"That would be wonderful."

Then they swapped. Katie went to Michaela's arms and the hammer ended up with Robert E. He nodded once, to Katie who waved happily back.

"Bye!"

"Bye-bye, Katie" His chest heaved with a hearty laugh.

Together, mother and daughter left the forge. They turned up the street and turned left. "Where we going now?" Katie asked, obviously fighting against the struggle to want to walk.

"I need to stop in and see Mr. Bray. Is that alright with you?"

Two nods announced her happiness, but two hand pressing against Michaela's arms offered resistance. "Want down." She said solemnly "Pwease!" Two legs squirmed back and forth in anxiety. With a slight sigh, Michaela conceded, and watched as the fair-haired child shot out in front of her, aimed at the steps leading up to the mercantile.

"Hi!" Katie once again introduced herself into the room long before her mother, hugging the side of the door jam and shyly swinging one foot before the other, as if she'd just become aware of her outgoingness. Loren Bray was the only one in the mercantile and he happened to be standing in the corner of the store, dust rag in hand.

"Well, looks whose here."

"It's me!" Katie giggled, reclaiming herself and entering into the building. Loren laid the rag off to the side and bent to her level, opening his arms wide enough to invite her to him. She ran to the older man, the way a little girl does to her grandfather, and allowed herself to be swallowed in a loose embrace.

"Well I suppose you'll be wantin' some candy now." The wrinkled eyes tightened on her face, and noticed the way she liked her lips at the mention. He nodded slightly to himself. "What'll it be today? Peppermint? Taffy?"

"gum drop."

"You're growing up ta be just like your brother." The older man growled, but Katie just smiled. She already knew how to read the older man. His complaints were just for show, especially as he lifted the lid to his candy jar and bent so that she could reach her hand in and grab a handful.

Michaela appeared in the entrance in time to see Katie pop a gum drop into her mouth. "Well, it seems like I keep missing all the excitement."

"You do."

"Well, if gum drops are a reason for excitement…" Loren scowled on his way back to his counter, where he deposited Katie on top. She continued to contently eat her candy, licking her lips after each sticky bite.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes," Michaela approached the counter, dropping her coin purse on top. "I need to pay my bill."

"Well, let's see here." Loren pulled the ledger from underneath the counter and removed a pencil from the side table. He stood, thinking, calculating, until he was staring at a finally added number of $7.75. He glanced at the number, and in a second more made a completely different decision.

"It's 5 dollars even." Michaela's eyes narrowed.

Loren had been watching the Sully family long before Sully had actually asked him to. He'd spent many hours talking to Brian watched as Michaela struggled with a little girl who not only didn't remember Sully, but didn't know that she needed to miss him. He also knew that Michaela groaned more and more under the financial burdens that were building from being alone with untold difficulties. It was needless in Loren's opinion, the court charges, the money due on the homestead; they were never things she should have to have dealt with on her own to begin with. Michaela had grown to be the closest thing to a family he had; her children were the only grandchildren he would ever get, and he was determined to care for them by whatever he could provide.

"Loren, it's got to be more than that."

With a sigh, Loren admitted, "your right." He threw his hand to Katie, gesturing the last piece of candy sticking between her fingers. "It's 5.02."

His relationship with Sully had started rocky, but over the years, they had faced their differences. They had learned to get along with one another and even had moments where they reached a little further than friends. It wasn't until after Sully's "death" did Loren realize that somewhere along the lines he'd begun to consider the younger man as a son, despite his desire not to. It seemed bitter, that when Sully was his true son-in-law, he didn't want him, but when Loren was finally willing to accept it, Sully was no longer there. However, despite Sully's absence, he had left behind a family, a family who Loren, if only to himself claimed as well. It didn't matter, though. Standing across from Michaela, their eyes trained on one another, understanding each other's situation and the anguish of being in both places. Michaela's lips tightened into a rigid acceptance. She understood. She understood Loren's need and what it meant for her children. "Thank you," she whispered, knowing her words held a double meaning.

* * *

Ok, well I decided you needed a little bit of a light chapter- not much angst and lots of Katie. I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know!


	10. The Lion and the Deer

_**Chapter 9**_

_**The Deer and the Lion**_

–"_This made him cry out, 'Upon my word,' says he, 'there are a lot of cowards who want to lie in the bed of a strong man! It is like a deer who lays her new-born sucklings to sleep in a lion's den, while she ranges hills and dales for her food: then the lion comes back to his lair and tears them to pieces, both dame and fawns. So Odysseus will come back and tear these men to pieces."-_

_**Trial going slower than hoped. Their arguments will be difficult to dispute. I'll begin later in the week.-M**_

* * *

Shelton Howard leaned back in his wooden chair, his feet propped on the desk before him, the shiny gold of his spurs digging into the soft wood. His elbows were propped on either side of the arm rest with fingers touching and resting against his mouth. He stared out the window in deep thought.

Howard had long finished the most urgent of reports to be sent to the territorial governor, and had scattered the rest of his papers- labeled with a bright red _Important_ scribbled across the header- to the corner of his desk, shoved in and over books. He wasn't in the least concerned about them. He'd get to them later. Instead, the thoughts that filled Howard's mind as he stared out the window were a little more… pressing. Shelton Howard was desperately trying to plan his next move on Michaela Quinn.

He had to admit, she'd reacted just as he'd anticipated, the sharp burst of anger and indignation followed by a shallow simmer. No one had realized it, or given him enough credit, but he had spent quite a bit of time observing Michaela Quinn; he had pinpointed all of her weaknesses. That's what gave him the leverage of the homestead, and it would soon be aided with her love and loyalty to her family. The only thing he had to do now was plan out his next step.

Howard's eyes narrowed on a point in the far distance, "If I told her…" His thought was interrupted by a knock on his door. After his invitation, the door opened to show his aide fidgeting with a paper in his hand.

"I'm sorry to bother you, sir."

Howard rolled his eyes, and with a swift motion beckoned the man in with his hand. He kicked his feet off the desk. "What is it?" His lips pursed tightly together.

"I just thought you'd be interested in this, sir." The aide lifted a newspaper before laying it down and the desk.

"What it it?" The question was not truly a question, for Howard grasped the paper between his own, forceful, greedy hands to discover for himself. He smiled when his eyes scanned the first of the headlines.

"_Treason against our protectors," Prosecutors say it isn't the first time. _

Howard looked up, his please, grinning eyes meeting the dull unhappiness of the man before him. "Thank you. I believe you just answered my question." A heaviness fell between them, the younger man unable to speak his mind and the older man refusing to acknowledge his aide's discomfort. Howard stared across the desk expectantly, and when he realized that nothing more was to be said, his eyebrows raised in bland disinterest. "That's all."

* * *

It seemed like a completly different day, a different time of year after the sun had broken through the early morning clouds warming the earth. It was unnaturally warm for a day in mid-January and the presence of a frost earlier that morning simply contributed more to the odd temperature fluctuations.

Sully straightened from his position on hands and knees, taking the time to stretch the kinks out of his back as he did so. The rays of the wintery sun seemed to beat down on his back, encouraging the sweat that was already sticking to the back of his woolen shirt. Dropping his newly reinforced hammer to his side, he turned himself around, feeling the constant ache in his knees and desiring to relieve the pain. A bucket of fresh water sat at the lower corner of the roof, and he scooted himself closer in order to take a drink of cool water.

On the very speck of the horizon, he could see a wagon, traveling across the little dirt path and growing bigger along the way. Sully's eyes affixed to the figure. Though he couldn't identify the wagon, or the occupants from such a distance, but he knew instinctively by the way his heart began to sputter in his chest that it was by Michaela's hand that the wagon moved.

Leaning back on his elbow with one knee bent and the other stretched before him, Sully balanced the tin cup on his abdomen. He began to chew on his lower lip. It was an effort he'd caught himself doing more often by means of discouraging the smile that desperately wanted to stretch his lips. Last night he'd been concerned, over his decisions, his actions, and Michaela's state of mind, but this morning he'd met a different, more determined woman, strengthened by the power of sleep and a new morning. He'd slipped this morning, he knew he did, because when Michaela had taken the hammer from him, lifting her eyes to his, she couldn't look away. He couldn't either, and though he detected a level of confusion about the moment in the multicolored irises that stared into his, he understood exactly why the two of them seemed trapped in a moment of suspended time.

Though he had permitted himself a few glimpses at her and her intoxicating gaze, he had hardly locked gazes with her at all. Instead this morning, he'd acted on his desires, and nearly lost his control. She seemed uncertain, not allowing herself to name what coarsed through her veins. He fought the want to pull her into his arms and kiss her with the fire that had begun to once again burn in his chest each time he saw her. In truth, after breakfast was over and Michaela and Katie had left for town, Sully found himself sitting on a bed of hay in the barn, the voice in the back of his head telling him that things couldn't continue like this for much longer. His entire charade had been a bomb to say the least, with the fuse already lit, and though he was certain now more than ever of what he was protecting her from, the only question was if he would break first and tell her, or she would figure it out. Perhaps, though, just perhaps everything would be over by then.

Dipping his head so that the brim of his hat covered his eyes, he took another sip of water. When he finally looked up, the wagon was stopped in front of the homestead. Katie, who was sitting on the front buckboard, waiting for Michaela to climb down swung her legs and smiled brightly, waving. The same mischevious grin stretched Sully's face as he waved back.

"How's everything going?" Michaela asked wondering around the side of the house, her hand raised to shield her eyes. She stood in the small patch of garden that laid before the broad stretch of trees took over. Sully rolled his body slightly so that he could see her over the edge of the roof.

"It's comin' along. The hammer's nice and sturdy now. I'm thinkin' I'll be able to fix this 'fore tomorrow lets out." He couldn't see the defined features of her face from so far up, but he knew that a wrinkle of concentration etched between her eyebrows. She was making a mental list of everything else that needed to be done.

Michaela's hand dropped from her brow to grasp her other arm, making it look as though she were cold, but in reality considering the fact that she no longer felt comfortable asking him for these jobs without pay, and she had nothing else to give him. She shrugged, trying to throw off her concern, "It'll be nice to have everything dry the next time it rains."

Slowly, the sun began to heat her under its fierce rays, and her shoulders began to warm under her shawl. She dropped her grasp on her arms in order to shrug off the warm yarn. In the split second that her eyes met the ground, they landed on the small sprouts of green jutting out from under her shoe. She eyed them suspiciously before bending down and plucking the weeds from the earth. Looking up from her kneeling position, her eyes followed the flashes of green mixed with color of budding flowers against the bland earth; it was an unusual winter.

For some reason, the flash of color and the warmth of the sun gave Michaela added energy. It was an urging to work in the garden, to weed and dig, even if the labor of today would be washed away in the next frost. By the time she straightened, she'd decided a little pre dinner gardening would be nice. "What do you think, Katie? Would you like to play outside?"

The little girl who had been distracted herself with a small ant crawling across a brown leave, nodded. "All right, let's go get our tools." Michaela held her hand out; Katie grasped her two smallest fingers.

Five minutes later found Michaela, with her gardening tools spread next to her, kneeling contently in the small patch of once tilled land. Strong leather gloves clad her hands for protection from the hard work. After a while, her movements became unconsciously synced with the constant thrum of hammer against nail as Sully, above her head, skillfully reconstructed the roof for her protection.

Sully bent, hands and knees working with the last of the shingles. However, he couldn't prevent his eyes from straying off the edge of the roof. He wanted nothing more than to sit and watch, to watch from afar where she could not see. She moved with such grace and certainty that it was almost intoxicating and he'd yet been able to drink his fill.

From where he knelt on the roof, he could see Katie, crouching low to the ground eyes trained on something specific. She stilled, her arms stretched high, and then, with the speed of a cat, stabbed at her unseen target, burying a spoon into the slightly moistened earth. Tiny fingers curled around the handle of the spoon, twisting and turning until it finally broke free sending shards of dirty flying into the air. He watched as little curls bounced wildly from side to side, dispelling the flakes of brown from the blonde tresses. Though he couldn't see her face, he could still see the toothy grin that announced her laughter. She immediately bent to try it again.

Wolf, who had spent most of the afternoon lounging out around the trees, came wandering back toward the house as if knowing that his family was home and to see what all the excitement was about. As Michaela continued to pull weeds, Katie sent another shower of dust into the air. Wolfe paused, considering both options, and then, lowering his head to the ground, strolled his way to Katie. Sully now, actually stood his hammer on end and rested his hands over the end, unabashedly watching his daughter and best friend interact.

Wolf wandered up to Katie and nudged her with the end of his nose, pushing her head to the side, from where she immediately bounded back, encircling both arms around his neck and returning the nuzzle. Moving, even with the constraint of two arms wrapped around his neck, Wolf bent to sniff at the little whole that had been created in front of her.

Katie giggled, though Sully couldn't hear it, "Woof!" She squealed plying thousands of kisses to the fluffy fur. Woolf's head rose and stared blankly at Sully on the roof, who laughed silently in return. Wolf had been with him since he was a small pup, and even when he first became close to Michaela and the kids, Brian would always play with the furry friend as rough as he did. Never had Sully prepared the poor animal to be showered with the attention and affection of a two year old girl. From where he sat, it looked as if, though Wolf accepted the hugs and kisses with his own form of gentle affection, he stared at Sully as if asking for help to extricate himself from the situation.

Sully sat on top of the roof, staring back at his longtime friend and simply shook his head, Wolf's head in turn dropped back to the ground, just in time for a handful of dirt to be dumped on him. Katie laughed.

"Katie!" The screech of disbelief announced that Michaela had looked up just in time to see the debacle. "Don't do that. How would you feel if someone poured dirt all over you?"

Katie reached up and ran her fingers through her own hair. "I alweady did." Michaela had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. She lifted a hand to beckon Wolf to her. He took three steps and stopped long enough to shake the dirt from his body before finishing the trip.

Now it was Sully's turn to watch the way Michaela interacted with Wolf. Even though she was less affectionate and over the top than Katie, she was still gentle and attentive as she rae her hands through the fur, dispelling the rest of the dirt from his thick fur, and then, her hands stopping on either side of the animal's neck, she leaned in.

"Now get out of here before she does worse." She whispered into the furry ear. When she leaned back she received a tap on the cheek with his wet nose, a simple thank you before running off down the hill.

Michaela turned to watch Wolf disappear down toward the barn and then turned back. "Come here Katie." The little girl clamored to her feet, and stumbled her way to her mama.

"I got dirty, too." She grinned, plopping down in her mother's lap.

"Yes, I see that." Gentle fingers ran through her curls, dusting off her shoulders. "Were you having fun?"

"Yea." She reclined back against Michaela's chest, her knees swaying back and forth. Her eyes drifted closed under the smooth motions, alluding to the fact that it might be possible to have her take a nap before dinner.

Michaela tilted her head to one side so that she could see Katie's face, "What do you think we should put in the garden this spring?" Katie struggled to put a dirt covered thumb in her mouth and Michaela quickly extracted it again. Little eyebrows lowered up at her, and then faded.

"I think carrots, an' 'motoes."

"What about…squash?" Katie grimaced, making Michaela laugh. She leaned in and dusting off a clean spot on the small forehead planted a kiss there.

It was only then that Michaela realized that she no longer heard the rhythmic hammering from the roof. She looked up, and found the strong frame of Sam Hawking staring back at her. He made no movement to turn away. He was not ashamed he had been caught in his little act of voyeurism, and Michaela couldn't muster any feelings of anger, or embarrassment. All she seemed able to do was to stare back, watching him as he watched her, and wonder what he was thinking. It seemed like another moment of lost time before the rushed thud of horse hoofs against the dirt path broke the spell. Both Michaela and Hawking turned toward the road, thinking the same thing- that there was an emergency- but quickly realizing that the rushed gallop was from Shelton Howard. Sully straightened on his knees as Michaela set Katie aside and stood to her feet. The little girl, wide-eyed followed her mother to meet the mysterious man, unaware as she grasped to the billowing skirts, the way her mama's body posture had changed from the gentle relaxation from the moment before to squared and strong.

Howard, threw his leg around back and dismounted in a smooth and gentle glide. Michaela's eye narrowed, watching the movement with a level a disdain and tension. She had hoped that she could manage not seeing Howard again, though that was highly improbable. He would find a way to arrange the meeting whether she liked it or not; she was beginning to realize just how sly and manipulating this man was and it gave her an even deeper sense of fear in her inability to stop him. He was a man of power unlike she had initially realized, and there was no one of equal power to turn to. She had to battle him alone.

In the half second that took Sully to question himself and his actions, he realized that there was no question at all. He would gladly take any step, even if it were to be the step toward his identity being discovered to keep her safe. His identity and her safety was not to be a trade off, and so, Sully, leaving the hammer forgotten on the new shingles, crawled to the ladder and was halfway down by the time the first words were spoken between Michaela and Howard.

"Mr. Howard, is there something I can help you with." Michaela stood, fingers intertwined before her, head raised so that she would be squinting in the sun, if she allowed herself to squint at all, but she was even too stubborn to do that. Howard's lips merely curled into a smile. It was chilling because it seemed so normal, as if he were completely unaware as to what had transpired the last time they met, or as if he thought nothing were wrong with the entire proposition.

"Well, hello, Dr. Quinn." He bent a little to the side so he could see the little girl who was standing behind her mother's leg, hugging it fiercely. "and hello to you."

Michaela felt the two arms squeeze tighter across the top of her leg. She reached her arm around and tucked the little head into her skirt, not forcing Katie to react in anyway. "Mr. Howard, if you have anything to say, I suggest to say it to me."

Mock shock transformed Howards face, "I must apologize Dr. Quinn. I didn't think that an act of kindness to my little hostess would be considered rude." There was once a time when Michaela might have thought her words were hasty and too harsh, but that time was over. "In fact I came to bring you this morning's newspaper from Denver. I thought you'd like to hear the news of the trail." A hand reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a clipped newspaper.

Katie buried her face further into her mama's skirt, hoping beyond hope that the man would go away. She hated it when the mean man visited. Ignoring the adult's conversation, she found the courage to lift her face and look behind her wondering where Wolf was, but instead she saw Mr. Hawking stepping off the ladder and turning toward her. In a second, she released her hold on her mama and turned to the gentle man, running toward him as fast as her legs would take him.

Sully could see the wide eyes filled with the beginnings of unshed tears as the little girl ran toward him. Stopping where he was, he dropped to one knee and lifted her into his arms, pulling her from the ground. Katie felt like she was flying, like no one else could even come close to touching her as she wrapped her arms around Mr. Hawking's neck, fingers grasping the edge of his collar. Her shimmering eyes met his and she whispered, barely audible. "It' th the scawy man."

"It's ok. Ya're ma's gonna keep you safe," and then looking around for a quick solution, "Ya wanna go inside?" A wordless nod answered his question, and he opened the side door to the house, put Katie on her feet and shut it behind her before turning back toward Michaela.

She stood alone, head lowered, eyes staring at something in her hands and the dust from a distant traveler passed back down the path. Sully took a few steps toward her and stopped, standing on two firm legs. "What'd he want?" Michaela stared at the clipping in her hand one last time, _traitor, traitor, treason_, it was the only word she seemed to be able to read. Hope seemed to be dimming in the ever glowing presence of the word.

She turned, folding the clipping hastily in her hand so that Hawking couldn't see it, but the way his eyes trailed to her hands told her he did. Her chin lifted, even more so than it had with Howard, perhaps because she felt more of a need to show her strength and certainty with Hawking. "It's nothing."

Sully still hadn't taken his eyes from her hands, "it can't be nothin'. What'd he say?"

She shrugged, moving suddenly, almost nervously toward the abandoned gardening tools, "He just wanted to tell me about the trail." She looked up? "Where's Katie?"

The change of subject threw Sully off, "She… ah… I let her inside, she seemed a little uneasy."

"She's scared of him. She wants to hide every time time he comes by."

Sully's jaw set, preparing for the reaction to his next words, "maybe she sees something that the rest of us don't." Two mismatched eyes shot at him accusingly before she bent back to her tools, putting them back in their basket. She said nothing and so he continued. "He still threatening you?"

"It was hardly a threat."

"Didn't sound like that the other night. Sounded like he really bothered you with that ultimatum." Michaela lifted the basket in a rushed motion.

"It was late at night. I was tired and…"

Sully's eyes narrowed at her, the flames of determination that he had known so well were vividly burning in her gaze. He had forgotten how frustrating her stubbornness was. "Let me help ya." It was a simple request, but Michaela flinched slightly. It was the same phrase Howard was waving over her head, and though she knew Hawking meant nothing of the sort, she cringed at the idea of having to bow down to a man she still knew nothing about.

"I have everything under control, thank you."

"It don't look like it. It looks like ya need help." She moved to pass him, but he caught her upper arm.

"Mr. Hawking this matter does not consult you. We are doing perfectly fine." She voice turned into a strangled cry.

"Why won't ya accept my help?" Sully's voice reacted similarly, raising a level in determination.

"Why are set on me taking it?" In the next second, he saw Michaela like he'd never had before. She looked scared, like Katie who had come running toward him with wide eyes and tears, like she was trapped. Michaela looked as though someone were squeezing the very air from her body, and the feeling transferred to him. Sully began to feel trapped by his own charade, and fought the urge to break out.

"Because that's why I'm here!" He shouted, not realizing what he'd said until he'd heard the words himself. He felt his heart stop in his chest, and stared at her face, looking for any understanding as to what he'd said.

"No, you're here to help fix my home. This matter does not concern you." There wasn't any.

Sully's voice lowered, a final cry, plea for her to listen. "Why do ya have ta be so stubborn?" Michaela felt her heart stop and a moment of intense pain taking over the next beat. The words were so familiar.

"_No shame in lettin' folks help ya." Sully stated simply, handing her the canteen with that soft smirk on his face. _

_Michaela sighed, "I'm sorry. I wanted to show you I could do whatever you could." She lifted her broken wrist grimly. "Now I'm nearly helpless."_

"_Why don't ya quite tryin' so hard?"_

"_It's an old habit."_

"_Give it up."_

The memory came and went. She pushed through the pain, and pulled her arm from his embrace suddenly as if just realizing that he was touching her. She had no desire for him to touch her, for him to look at her in that moment. Her voice lowered for her answer, barely containing all of the emotion out of her own ears. "Because if I don't keep it together, this all falls apart, everything, my practice, my homestead, my family. It's all gone if I'm not strong enough to deal."

She waited for no response, and did not wait to see the unnamed emotion that crossed Hawking's face as he, utterly shocked, heard her announce, blatantly what it was she was feeling. She simply turned for the door. The sudden crack of wood on wood echoed through the trees.

* * *

"So, I was thinkin' that I would write about how the buffalo don't come grazin' near Colorado Springs anymore." Brian told Hawking, who was sitting across the table from him.

Hawking nodded, pleased with Brian's ideas for his next article in The Gazette. "Sounds familiar." He smiled slightly under the protection of the brim of his hat.

"Yea, I got ta thinkin' 'bout it after we talked. I started wonderin' 'bout why that was. Maybe if I could find out and write about what changed we could stop it."

"I think that's a good plan, Brian."

The young man, smiled. He had been excited to know what Mr. Hawking thought the moment he came up with the idea. Somehow, something told him that the older man would be pleased, and the approval meant a lot, a lot more than he would have thought. He turned to his ma, eyes sparkling with the excitement of a new project.

"Whadda ya think, ma?"

Michaela, who was occupying her attention with removing the last of dinner from the oven, turned to look at Brian. Her eyes were softened, and she seemed to beam at him. "I think it's lovely… "She paused before adding the words that she knew Brian truly needed to hear, "and I think Sully would have thought so as well."

Sully didn't miss the way Brian's feature stretched even further. He wouldn't have thought it possible to see the boy any happier than he had been five minutes before, but he was.

"Thanks, Ma."

Michaela took the moment to acknowledge his appreciation, taking a breath to steady the pounding in her heart, and then reached for the stack of plates, "Brian, would you set the table for me?"

"Yea, sure." Standing from his position, he took the plates from her and turned for the den. Sully too stood. Much hadn't been said between him and Michaela since that afternoon, but he could tell by her quietness and abrupt answers, her fighting desire to avoid his eye contact, that she was still bothered by what had transpired. Whether she was angry, or simply ashamed of their encounter he couldn't identify. He decided to take it easy either way.

"Can I help?" He stepped behind her, reaching around to take the plate of biscuits and fried chicken.

"Um, ah… yes." She swiped quickly at the hair in her face. "Thank you." He took the plates and turned, leaving her with the glasses.

It took Michaela a moment to collect herself. She didn't know what she felt at the precise moment somehow it was a mixture of acceptance and the intense struggle for there to be no acceptance. It was a horrible complacency that she couldn't seem to shake. She was just tired, tired of fighting and trying to prove everything to everyone. _There's no shame in letting someone help ya._ There was no shame in it, as long as the right person was there. There had been a time when she would have allowed herself to be taken care of, but that time had come and gone. She didn't wish to go back.

Two knocks on the door, announced Michaela's presence in the room. She nodded for Brian to answer the door as she turned to put Katie in her high chair.

"Sorry ta bother ya Dr. Mike." Jake appeared in the doorway, swiftly taking his hat off and bowing his head. "Joshua Crombie fell under the back wheel of his wagon. He's messed up pretty bad."

Michaela took a breath, her chest filling with air as she glanced around the table, thinking quickly. "All right." Brian spoke first, prepared to be help in anyway possible, "I'll ride inta town with ya, Ma."

"No, stay here with Katie and finish dinner. I'll be fine." Hawking stood near the doorway, watching as Michaela, as usual jumped into action. She moved to the door and shrugged into her coat and reached for her bag.

"Mommy leave?" Katie called from her seat, fork in hand waiting for dinner.

Michaela hastily moved back to her daughter knowing that there wasn't time for long good byes. "I'm leaving to take care of Mr. Crombie, but you can stay here with Brian and have a good dinner." She didn't wait for the protest, or the tears as she cupped the girl's cheek and deposited a kiss to her cheek before moving to Brian. A quick hug and a nod to Hawking, "good night," saw her out the door.

* * *

So there's the next chapter, what do you think? I hope you enjoyed it…. =)


	11. Just Rest

**Chapter 10**

**Just Rest**

"_Then she sank down and slept, and her weary frame had rest."_

The rest of the dinner was spent in amiable conversation. Brian continued to talk about his article prompted by Sully's questions and Katie played happily in her dinner, looking up every so often with a big smile on her face. In fact, nothing seemed to be different after Michaela's disappearance except the persistence of the empty chair at the head of the table that spoke of her reserved place in the hearts and minds of all.

The most interesting thing for Sully was the quiet acceptance with which Katie seemed to take Michaela's leaving. He'd heard Michaela talk many times about how disappointed she was each time her father had to leave to take care of a patient. She'd even told him of once when she was five and her father leave before dinner was served on her birthday. She said all she truly remembered that night was crying herself to sleep, aware of only the fact that her father wasn't there on her special night. With that story in mind, Sully, over the course of the meal, sent a continuous stream of glances in Katie's direction, watching her play contently as Brian stepped in to take care of her the way Michaela would have.

"Don't fling your fork, Katie." Brian said on the side before returning his attention to what it was he was saying.

"You're ma gone a lot?"

Brian paused to think, and bought time with a long sip of tea. "Not a lot, but she can't help it. It's ok though, 'cause sometimes people need ma to take care of them too, right Katie?"

Hearing her name caught Katie's attention and she stopped mid motion, her fork held over her head. She promptly lowered her arm and nodded, watery eyes staring across the table at Hawking as she quietly informed him, "Mommy thpecial." Sully couldn't keep a straight face if he'd tried.

After dinner, Sully offered to do the dishes so Brian could tend to Katie, and it wasn't long before Sully, deciding to humor Katie who kept begging for him to help build her a tower, gave in and sat in the floor with her. While Brian sat at the table, head bent over his open outline, trying to get as much done in his moments of quietness, Sully lay stretched over to one side, supporting himself by his left arm while he built an impossibly tall tower of blocks.

Katie sat on the other side of the tower, alternating to place her block between the ones that Sully did, and when the tower swayed hazardously to one side, she leaned over, popping her head from around the side of the blocks.

"Now?" her brows rose to widen her eyes.

Sully leaned back a little on his arm, his mouth curling at the edges. He was playing with his daughter. "Yea, go ahead."

Suddenly, the center popped out of the center of the tower, sending everything above tumbling to the ground and taking the remainder of the steady base with it.

Sully laughed as Katie, bouncing on her knees, clapped her hands and squealed. Brian looked up from his pad, smiling himself, but looking at the older man with gratitude. "Ya can turn in if ya like. I can stay up with Katie now." He turned his body from the table, sitting sideway in the chair.

Absentmindedly, reaching for a block that had fallen far, he handed it back to Katie, who grasped it greedily between two tiny hands and stacked it in front of her. "It's ok. Ya keep workin'. She's kinda fun ta play with." The little head bent intently over her task, making it impossible for Sully not to reach out and ruffle the blonde curls. Katie shrugged his hand off, shaking her head violently from side to side before bending back to her task. She never looked at him. She didn't care that the older man couldn't seem to take his eyes off her.

________________________

The clock on the mantle struck ten.

"When's bedtime?"

"She don't have a bed time when Ma's gone. She usually just stays up and falls asleep when she's tired."

Sully nodded, watching the blonde frame that now ran briskly around the room. Did she ever run out of energy? He could feel the tired ache spreading through his own body, reminding him of the hard day's work he'd put in. He felt his age creep over him in his desire for sleep.

Having not moved from his position, he was laying eye level with her, when she wandered between the two big arm chairs, mouth thrown open wide in a yawn.

"Looks like someone's getting' sleepy." Sully teased, his finger hooking into the front of her dress and pulling her forward.

"I no swee…py." She finished her sentence with another yawn and a sigh, leaning heavily on Sully's side.

"I think that yawn begs to differ." A sly smile of irony molded Sully's face, but Katie thought it not funny at all. Instead, she stiffened, eyes glowering at him in defiance. Suddenly the smile fell from his face to be replaced by a solemn expression. Could she look any more like Michaela in that moment? It was no doubt that Katie had inherited her mother's spirit and stubbornness, and, of course, her intelligence- all the things he'd first fallen in love with her for.

"No." Katie told him more firmly. "I wait for Mommy." Turning her back on him as if he were a favorite toy, who for the time being had become dilapidated and unfun, she jaunted toward the window. Standing on her own two legs, which, though as shaky as any two year old, seemed to be sturdy and strong, the pillars that allowed her to stand independent and apart from anyone else's help. She placed her hands flat on the seat of the chair stationed beneath the window, and, with a brief grunt of effort, her legs fell out from underneath her. She squirmed, shifting her legs aback and forth, each time gaining a little ground on the seat cushion until she was laying flat on her belly and had only to pull her legs up. When she finally landed on the seat, she sat up right and turned around. Mr. Hawking was still in his usual recline on the floor. Straightening her back, Katie lowered him a pointed smile, relishing her victory. Then, never loosing her look of satisfaction, she scooted to the back, sitting up on her knees and propping her arms on the tiny windowsill that was now within her reach. She rested her chin in the crook of her arm.

Sully made no move, and Sully said nothing. Instead, he just stared at the small ball, now curled into the oversized chair, head tilting to one side. He imagined that he had stepped back in time, and instead of seeing her daughter, he was actually witnessing Michaela's nightly ritual, waiting by the window for her father to come home. Judging by the solid breathing and lagging head, he knew that her vigil wouldn't last much longer. Katie would be asleep soon. Amused, Sully shot a glance toward Brian, who matched him with the same hidden smirk. It was a moment shared between the two that recognized each other's fondness for the girl only broken by Sully's keen awareness not to look straight ahead too long. Reaching up, he made a fidgeting motion to pull the brim of his hat down over his eyes as he sat up, pulling himself to his feet.

"It's getting' late." He probed gently. Brian shrugged.

"Yea, I think I'm gonna work on this just a little longer." The boy beamed making it obvious beyond doubt to Sully that he'd found the one thing that he loved doing more than anything else. The fact settled on Sully's heart, warming him with a sense of hope for Brian's future. It was a single stabilizing factor that jutted from the twisting mess of the world at the moment, and Sully rested in knowing that Brian had at least that. He had something that bent his head in intrigue and guided his handwriting with excitement. As long as he could keep those things in life, each morning would be a fresh and new palate to look forward too.

_______________________________________________

The clock chimed over the mantle, announcing to no one in particular that it was three in the morning. Actually, there wasn't anyone to announce it too, save Sully who was sitting slumped down in on of the wingback chairs, watching the constant dance of flames in the hearth, moving only to add another log to the fire. The time wasn't news to him; he had sat and watched the long hand wrap around the face of the clock as he had the hour before.

Behind him, Brian lay with his head resting on the table sound asleep with a soft blanket draped across his shoulders. He had still been determined to see his ma home when he fell asleep, and Sully saw not point in arguing with him or the plump little figure still curled into the chair by the window. Instead, he simply fell to a position that he had yet to be able to take up with the children- protective observer.

In the hours of silence that followed, Sully's only company was the ticking of the clock, the snap of the fire, and the ever-beautiful wisps of deep breathing from both of the sleeping children.

The quietness allowed him the opportunity to think, to feel things he hadn't allowed himself to feel. He'd spent most of his time attempting an unaffected observance. He could stand it only if he couldn't feel anything, but now in the stillness of the homestead with those he'd seen only in his dreams so close and unaware of his presence, he felt the inklings of emotion floating in his chest. He felt pride, anxiety, happiness, love, fear, a mixture of any and all of the above. He wanted to take Brian on a walk and tell him the things he'd want to know for his article, and to hold Katie and rock her to sleep. The longer the time spanned before him the more unlikely it felt that the day would ever occur for him to do those things, for him to be a pa again.

He'd shifted his chair so that he could see both the children from where he sat, his feet stretched before him. He felt the heaviness of his own eyes wanting to shut, but fought the feeling away. He would see the children delivered safely back into the custody of their ma before being banished once more to the cold, empty barn.

It was a little past three thirty when two gentle footsteps on the porch announced a visitor. Once again remembering the lightness of Michaela's glide, he shot to his feet, meeting the door on his side and swinging it open at the same time the slender hand reached out to accomplish the task herself. Sully found himself standing before a wide-eyed and startled Michaela.

"Mr. Hawking. Ah… um… wh… what are you doing here?" Her shock caused her to stumble over her words.

"I'm sorry ta startle ya. I tole Brian that I'd stay an' watch Katie so he could do his schoolwork. When he fell asleep, I didn't want ta leave 'em here."

Seconds passed before recognition that he'd even spoken fluttered across Michaela's face lifting the cloud from her eyes. She nodded slowly. "Well thank you." The usual glistening of her hazel and green eyes was muted and tired. Suddenly a shiver coursed through her body reminding them both that she was still standing in the doorway. Sully instinctively reached out and pulled her in toward him. With a hand at her elbow and another at her back, he ushered her inside. The contact was an instant mistake. He felt sparks trail through his arms begging to be explored further. He dropped his hands as soon as possible, it was either that or to wrap her fully in his embrace, something he didn't think Michaela would appreciate.

After shutting the door, he turned to see Michaela slumped shoulders slowly placing her bag at the end of the table and shrugging from her coat.

"You're patient ok?" He asked, requesting a glance up from Michaela as she bent over Brian's sleeping form. Her solemn face told him all he needed to know.

"His injury's were too extreme. I did all I could." The last of her words were an exhausted sigh.

"Course ya did." Sully stood stiff backed next to the door, trying to determine something, if anything could be said, to tell her of his faith in her. There wasn't.

Michaela bent over Brian's sleeping frame, gently pulling at the blanket and stroking at the feathery hair as she called his name.

"Mmm."

"Go on to bed now. I'm home." Brian stirred in his chair until he was staring at her through two narrow slits.

"I was gonna wait up for ya, Ma."

"Thank you, but it's late now. Time for bed." Two arms wrapped around Brian's shoulders encouraging him to stand. The stooped shoulders wrapped in the warm blanket swayed a little in tiredness.

"Night ma." Brian swayed to the side to kiss her on the cheek.

"Good night." Both Michaela and Sully watched the draped figure move toward the stairs and then climb them until disappearing into the darkened corridors.

A hand wiped across Michaela's face in an attempt to rid it of all traces of tiredness. She ran her forefinger and thumb across her brow, stretching the skin that stiffened. The pressure helped the strained nerves a little, but once she dropped her hand, the pain returned full force. At this point, all that was going to help was sleep, which she decided to try to get as soon as possible.

She turned back to Hawking and spoke as she reached for the blanket thrown across the back of the armchair. "I'm sorry that it took me so long to get home." The red tint of her cheeks spoke of her embarrassment. She could hardly imagine what he must think of a woman who leaves her family in the middle of the night and doesn't return until the early morning hours. She'd hardly know what she'd think of it herself, but the bristle of indignation crawled up her spin. _This is my only option, but he can't understand that._ _No one can._

"Don't worry 'bout it. The kids seemed ta be ok. I just stayed ta help Brian out." _Because he shouldn't have to do this on his own. _Michaela mentally added to his words. His words held the friendly flatness of sincerity, but she could imagine the narrowed gaze of judgment she would find in his eyes if she were to look at him. Instead of facing such open hostility tonight, she trained her eyed on Katie, unfurling the blanket to receive the still slumbering baby, never aware that if she had summoned the courage to look into the oddly familiar eyes she would have found not judgment but concern.

"Well I'm home now. You're more than welcome to retire for the night. Take a few extra hours for in the morning." She spoke not a question or a request, but as a filler of silence not knowing exactly what to say and urgently wishing that the stranger would simply leave. She did not wish to be witnessed in her less than shinning moment.

Draping the blanket over Katie, she scooped the girl into her arms, resting the small head against her chest. She completely filled her attention with the baby neglecting everything else of her surroundings.

Sully had noticed the quiet dishevel that coursed through her veins and her limited attention span. Once again, he found himself on the outside of the equation, unable to help in the way he wanted. When he watched Michaela lifted Katie from her makeshift bed, he stepped forward jerkily wanting to help. In the back of his mind, he could see himself carrying the sleeping girl up to bed, the path illuminated by a lamp carried by Michaela, the happy family they were always meant to be.

Michaela turned in time to see him, arm outstretched, preparing to make his offer. She took a step backward, a smile of appreciated solemnity across her lips as a soothing hand ran the course of the curved back in her arms. "I think we're fine for the night. Thank you Mr. Hawking."

He stood there, a second suspended in time in which he was forced to make a decision though there wasn't truly a decision to make. His next step had already been chosen for him. After the second's hesitation, Sully resigned himself to grasping the door handle and, pulling the door open, stepped into the cold night air.

* * *

_One, two, three, four,_ Brian counted the number of footsteps it took him to cross from one side of the office to the other, _five six, seven, eight._ He glanced up at the desk. The mass of red curls pulled loosely into a bun still bent over the writing surface. In one fell swoop, he turned on the balls of his feet and returned across the office. _One, two three…_

"Well Brian," The voice, breaking the silence, froze Brian's motions, sending him swirling back to the desk. Dorothy sat straightening the stack of papers she'd been reading just a few seconds earlier. She paused, a teasing maternal smile hinting at her lips.

"Well?" Brian asked impatiently, his lips widening into his usual cocked grin. He shoved his hands in his pocket in an effort to contain his excitement.

"I think it's a wonderful idea for an article."

"Really?" He moved swiftly to stand by her side, looking over her shoulder.

"Really. In fact, the only problem I have with it is here." She made a wide circle across the paper. "I think it may be rather ambitious of you to try to do it all in one article."

"Ya think I need to cut some out?" Brian asked, his face falling, trying to determine what that would be.

"I think you need to break this down into several articles and run them as a series."

"Really? Ya think I can write a series?"

"I think you're ready. Especially with a topic like this. Look at the past, the present, and then future. I think you should plan on three separate articles." She took the papers and shoved them into the side of the folder lying open on her desk. She lifted it up to Brian, her eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile. "Work on the first article and then we'll examine it from there."

Brian received the folder with both hands, his breath pent in his chest. "I'll start right away. Thanks." Turning away, Brian headed for the door instantly making a list of everything he needed to do, to read before he started writing. He got all the way to the door before Dorothy called him back.

"Oh, Brian?" He stopped instantly, one foot already outside the door. "I meant to ask you earlier. I heard 'bout Jonathan Crombie this mornin'. How's your ma holdin' up."

Brian shrugged, clutching the folder of notes to his chest. "She got in late this mornin', slept a few hours an' woke up ta make breakfast. She's wearin' down."

Tiny wrinkles appeared across Dorothy's forehead. She'd thought many times about offering to help Michaela with the kids. In fact, she'd offered to stay with them in the months after Sully's disappearance, but over the weeks her help was slowly pushed back. Dorothy knew her friend, and she knew that it was of no rejection to herself, but the determination of Michaela and her desire not to put anybody out. Dorothy thought it ironic to think that the same strength that made it possible for Michaela to wake each morning made things harder on her. She wondered how much longer Michaela would last.

"Where's your ma now?"

"She's at the clinic."

* * *

The thick lines of finely scrolled letters blurred together across the paper, making everything unreadable. A tight squeeze of the eyes did nothing to relieve the burning sensation that stung her lids. With a quick sigh of exasperation, Michaela dropped her pen in the inkwell and fell back against the backrest. There was once a time when she could work from day to day on just three hours of sleep, ushered forth from hour to hour by adrenaline and a level of concentration that made her forget that she hadn't had a good nights sleep in days. Somewhere in the past few years, she'd aged what felt like ten years and never noticed it.

The truth was that she had been holding up relatively well when she had a steady influx of patients coming through her door. She had pulled an abscessed tooth, performed a few sets of sutures, set a broken collarbone, and had a check up with a four-year-old boy. About half and hour ago, Melissa Strong waddled through her door, eyes sparkling and a large smile of complete happiness brightening her face. Melissa was seven months pregnant with her first child.

When she first confirmed the pregnancy, the moment was bitter sweet for Michaela. She stood back, in the corner of the room giving the young couple private time with their new news. They smiled and laughed, Melissa even cried, and Michaela couldn't forget the afternoon when she'd first told Sully that there would be a Katie.

Over the course of the next few weeks, Michaela had many sleepless nights of wandering the house, and somehow always ended in Katie's room, watching as the little girl slept. She'd managed this long to neglect how very much she wanted another child, and how much she missed Katie being little and crawling around the floor. Until then a part of her had always held the hope of becoming a mother once more, though unrealistic that was.

However, after weeks of thinking, praying, even, during the worst of it confiding her realization to Dorothy, she found peace. It was a peace that no one could teach her, or help her with, she had had to discover it on her own. It was an early morning, a Saturday morning when Katie had crawled in bed with her only to fall asleep again snuggled against the pillow that Michaela realized how very blessed she was to have Katie, and how much more comforting her age was now than it would have been several years ago. Her daughter never ceased to make her smile or laugh. Life was always brighter with Katie in her arms. More importantly, though, Michaela learned to understand the peace in what this new child would mean for the world. It was her proof that life continued, that goodness and truth moved forward. Nothing ended in pain and despair, but it did begin with love and purity. As the weeks stretched to months, Michaela watched as both mother and child thrived with vigor and health, the pregnancy was almost therapeutic. It became essential for a new, healthy life to be born into this world.

Michaela's chest fell with a heavy sigh. _Both mother and child are doing fine_, it was the last thing she had written in the file, but now her head seemed so heavy; her eyelids were so tired. Surrendering herself for just a few minutes, she propped her arm on the rest of her chair and rested her chin in her hands.

Twenty minutes later, there was a soft tapping at the door, but Michaela did not move. The knocking grew louder, and still she sat, head on hand, eyes closed. Another pause and then there was the squeak of the door swinging on the hinges. Dorothy stepped into the doorway and then paused, her face fallen as she saw the scene before her, Michaela, nestled in the back of her wooden chair, head in hands, fast asleep. Swinging the door behind her, she stopped it just short of the jam and closed it with a quick _click_.

Gentle hands moved up Michaela's shoulders across her head, softly rousing her from the blank, dark sleep. "Hmm?" She moaned softly, head moving to the side, trying to force her eyes open.

"Michaela."

Her eyes shot open with a start. She landed arms sprawled across the desk and found herself staring blankly at the open file. Her brow knit in confusion.

"Michaela, honey why don't you go home?"

A stray hand wiped the sleep out of her eyes as Michaela turned, slightly dazed to the woman standing next to her. "What? Oh, no… I need to finish these files."

"You're not going to finish them if you're too tired to keep your eyes open." Stray hands pulled at pages, pulling them into a stack. Thumbing through a pile of files, Michaela pulled the one out from the center of the stack.

"I won't get anything done at home."

"You're not getting anything done here."

Michaela's hands stilled across the crisp white pages, her weary eyes softening with the truth. It didn't matter where she was; she wasn't going to be affective.

"Go home Michaela and sleep. I'll have Brian bring Katie from Mrs. Calloway's when he leaves town." Dorothy spoke, placing a gentle, insistent hand at Michaela's back. She watched as her friend gazed around the room, trying to find something, anything to use an excuse, but there wasn't anything. Michaela glanced at her from the corner of her eye and then, her lids dropping shut once, nodded.

"Alright," she whispered quietly, "I'll go."

* * *

Sully was just stepping out of the barn, arm raised to wipe the excess water from his lips when he saw the wagon winding its way to the homestead. He stopped short, shutting the door behind him, his eyes watching the jerking movement of the wagon as it bumped along the path. He made it to the front of his homestead in enough time to meet Michaela, who was pulling back on the reigns.

"You're home early." He stated bluntly, reaching out to pull softly against the bridle while smoothing another hand against the smooth side of the beast.

"Most of my patients came this morning, so I thought I might get some things done here" She threw her reigns over the side of the handle attacked to the buckboard before standing forward, preparing to climb down. Sully moved toward her side, laying his hand over hers, which grasped at the metal handle, stopping her before she turned to take the first step on top of the wagon wheel. She stopped her motions instantly, turning to look at him accusingly, but Sully paid no notice. He hardly cared for anything at this point other than the utter exhaustion that etched dark circles under her eyes. Lifting a hand, he waved his fingers toward her, beckoning her to come toward him. Michaela, too tired to argue, followed the silent order.

Two hands wrapped around her waist lifting her from the bottom of the wagon and over the side. Michaela was slightly taken back by the unexpected action and doubly so by her proximity to the broad chest once she'd landed. She found herself unable to look into crystallized stare, unwilling to lift her eyes from the worn and nearly moth eaten shirt. She became acutely aware of the two hands, still firmly placed on her waist.

Sully could feel the gentle curve of her hips even through the heavy coat. The mere inches that separated his body from her reminding him of the way they fit so perfectly together. Her warmth emitting an intoxicating spell, beckoned him closer. He felt her fingers curl against the fabric of his sleeve and swayed a little in her direction, instinctively moving closer, unable to tell himself no, but pressure on his shoulders brought him back to the world of reality. Michaela turned her back to him, forcing him to drop his hands.

Sully stepped back, defeated. "Ya look tired."

When Michaela turned back around she clutched her bag in her hand, "I could say the same about you."

"I think I got a little more sleep than ya did, though."

"I had to be at the clinic early this morning." As she made her way to the front door, Sully proceeded to follow, ignoring with a smile of sly humor the irritated looks she sent over her shoulder.

"But ya're home now. Maybe ya can get some sleep 'fore the kids come home tonight."

Michaela stopped short at the door, causing Sully almost to run into her. Wordlessly she turned and stared blankly in his direction before turning back around and opening the door.

"Actually I have some things I hope to get done." She dropped her bag on the table by the door and shrugged out of her coat.

"Like what?"

"Well, there are a few more weeds in the garden."

Sully crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his head. If she could have seen his eyes, she would recognize the pointed question that peered from them, but instead she heard it in his voice.

"Ya're going to weed a garden that will have to be weeded again in a few months?"

"Well, there'll be less weeds for the second go."

"That don't make sense."

She draped her coat over the back of the chair and squeezed her eyes shut, her head hurt and the last thing she wanted now was to argue. She turned harshly to face him, hoping to end this here. "Mr. Hawking, I just need to keep busy."

As much as Michaela hoped to avoid confrontation, Sully felt the same way. He did not want an argument, and he didn't want to anger her, or scare her. He just wanted her to rest before she made herself sick. "Come 'ere." He reached for her arm, pulling her with him as he turned toward the fluffy, wing back chairs. "Just sit and rest, for twenty minutes. Then ya can do what ya like."

Michaela stopped, staring at the comfortable chair for a long while as if trying to make her mind, but with every passing second, her shoulders grew heavier. Moving around to the front of the chair, she sat, feeling her head fall back into the soft cushion. She took the blanket Hawking held out to her and laid it across her lap.

"I'll work on cuttin' some more shingles so I ain't banging on the roof."

"Thank you," she mumbled, her head leaning into the curved edge of the chair, pulling the blanket up over her arms.

Sully stood there for another moment, watching her eyes flutter shut and her arms tighten under the blanket. Her hair, pulling from her bun, fell over her eyes. Sully's fingers stroked against the ribbed needlework of the chair before he finally tore himself from her side. With deliberate steps, he left the house, pulling the door shut behind him.

The soft click of the door woke Michaela temporarily from her shallow sleep. Lifting her head, she looked around before laying her head over once more. The last thing her eyes laid on was the clock keeping steady time. She had one hour before the children got home. Then, she fell asleep.

* * *

It's been a while, but I hoped you enjoyed this chapter!


	12. Weep

**Chapter 11**

**Weep**

_She stept upon the high platform, where chests were standing full of scented stuff, she reached up to the peg and took off the bow in a shining case. Then she sat down and laid it across her knees weeping bitterly."_

The howling of the winter wind whipping around the corner of the barn felt earth shattering. There seemed to be no other sound in the world as Sully huddled into the corner of the barn. The lantern above his head swung wildly on it hook creating a shaky illumination around the loft.

Sully sat with his coat pulled tightly across his body and another blanket thrown over his shoulders. The clothes combined to keep him from shaking and allowed his hands to run masterfully over the small block of wood he held. The blade of his knife angled perfectly against the grain, not jerking but moving across the material in long, smooth strokes.

Each night Sully seemed to sleep less and less, and the idea had come to him, during the quiet hours the night before when he'd watched Katie sleep that he could fill the empty hours of his night with carvings, the way he had before he'd left. Already he could feel the soft roundness of the doll form under the pads of his fingertips and he could imagine the bright look of excitement in Katie's eyes when he would give her the new toy.

The plotting of each stroke and moaning of the wind were enough to fill Sully's mind, and he concentrated on his task. He concentrated so hard that he didn't notice when the wind stopped, replaced by the calm stillness and chirping of crickets, and he most certainly did not realize when the mournful cries started. However, the cries were there, and after an insurmountable amount of time Sully slowly became aware of the fact that there was a new sound that floated down from the homestead. Dropping his carving to the side, he leaned forward cracking the small window just enough to see through a slit. Lights were illuminated downstairs and a few upstairs as well. The unmistakable sound of a little girl's cries was indeed mixed with the wind. Finding himself, unable to sit still and listen to Katie from so far away, he shrugged the blanket from around his shoulders and climbed down the ladder. Perhaps he could help.

As Sully made his way to the homestead, the tearful sobs got louder. By the time he arrived at the door, and knocked a few times, it was obvious that Michaela had her hands full. He knocked briefly once more and waited, trying to determine what to do next. Was he over stepping his bounds by letting himself into the house? Was he really concerned with keeping up appearances any longer? Not stopping long enough to consider an answer, he grasped the handle and let himself in.

The den was low lit by a few lamp set strategically around the room and the subtle glow from the hearth. Aside from those objects of order, everything else in the homestead seemed to be somehow in a state of dishevel. The blankets were thrown from the back of the chairs, stools pulled away from tables the sewing basket was over turned next to the doorway. It looked as if someone had raided the space, sacrificing nothing until the search had been complete. _Howard_, the name slide through his mind as he stepped fully into the room a little more urgently than he had climbed the hill.

"Mommee!!!" Katie cried from upstairs coughing and whining. Sully didn't take the time to be sure the door shut behind him as he began to run to the stairs, his mind filling with everything that could have happened in the few hours that he'd left them. He imagined walking in on an unconscious Michaela, lying in a heap on the floor, Howard standing grimly over as Katie terrified and crying looked on. His hand reached for the bottom of the banister, prepared to thrust himself forward with a power he'd yet to recapture when a sudden movement in the corner of his eye made him freeze. It was Michaela.

Suddenly the lump in his throat dissolved with her in sight, the seconds of stunned horror gone before being replaced with confusion. Michaela bent over a large basket of dirty clothes. She had it tilted, balanced in one had while she frantically raked through the layers of white fabric tossing them to the side, clawing her way to the bottom. He took a few steps closer, and realized that her shoulders shook under stress. Her eyebrows knit together, drawing a crease right between her eyes and she bit hard on her lip. Her eyes were dark and heavy, a certain sign that her nap from that afternoon had long worn off. It was half passed eleven.

"Doctor… doctor…" Sully started her name, but she'd yet to register that he was standing there. Ultimately, he gave up talking to her at all and instead moved toward her, placing her arm at her back and another grasping at her swift hands. "Hey, hey…" He hummed, trying to calm her actions. They could still hear Katie screaming from upstairs, awful piercing squeals. It was almost unbearable. "What's wrong?"

Sully finally managed to coax Michaela still, pulling her upward to a standing position. She stood straight, as if throwing her hands into the air in hopelessness, though she clutched a linen shirt in them at her side. Much to Sully's horror, her face crumpled as a few tears burst from the corner of her eyes. "I just," Her throat caught and a hand flew to her mouth, completely mortified by her present appearance. "I just need her to go to sleep. I need her to be quiet." She sniffed, the lift of her chest being the only outward symbol to a gesture whose sound was lost in the constant barrage of tears.

"Mo-o-o-mee!"

Two eyes stared back at Sully through frizzled hair, not registering what she saw. Her eyes blinked wearily, unleashing another tear. Then, as if realizing what she was doing, she shook her head forcefully, attempting to wipe and her cheeks and nose. "I'm sorry," she swallowed.

"It's ok, it's ok. How can I help? What will make her go to sleep?" His hand strummed down her back.

"Blankie… she won't sleep without it and I can't find it anywhere."

Sully nodded his head briskly, eyes already looking around, trying to decipher where this precious item would be. "What's it look like?" As he spoke, he began to back away from her.

Michaela sniffled, "It… um…. It's off white, cotton, with the edges hemmed in."

"Ya last see it around here?"

"The only other place it could be is at Mrs. Calloway's, but she didn't take it this morning."

"Ok, then it's gotta be here. Ya finish that and I'll look over here."

Michaela bent back to her task, this time, her hands moving slightly less frantic as she searched. Back in the den, Sully glanced around, trying to think of the least likely place to hide a blankie. He got on his hands and knees and looked under the desk in the corner of the room, in the wood box next the hearth and once more through the contents of the sewing basket. Finally, straightening somewhat dejectedly his eyes focused on the wingback chairs. In two strides he made his way to the chair closest to him and in one swift motion pulled the bottom cushion up, tossing it over the side of the chair in time for Michaela reemerge from the kitchen. Pulling the chairs out from under the table, she began to search through the recesses more thoroughly when she heard Hawking's cry.

"Here it is!"

His hands dropped the cushion suspended in mid air and clasped around the small blanket that had been crammed into the corner of the chair. At first, he didn't pay much mind to the fabric he held until he stepped a little to the side and allowed the light from the fire to reach around his shoulder. Then, he recognized it instantly. The blanket was made out of the fabric from one of his old shirts.

"Thank you." Slender hands were pulling it from his grasp before he had time to digest what he was holding. "I'll be right back." Michaela turned and ran up the stairs.

Left alone in the scattered room, Sully seemed stunned. The blanket was made from a piece of his shirt. Mindlessly, he bent and replaced the cushions, methodically making his way around the room, straightening what had been tossed aside in their rush while he thought.

Everything, the journals, the homestead, and now the blanket, was created purposefully for Katie and Brian. Michael had carefully constructed ways to keep him present in their lives. His memory was forgotten.

He could remember the time right after Abigail died; how he tried to run from the memory. He'd left everything that reminded him of her and Hannah behind, locked in a single wooden chest in a dusty wooden cabin. Michaela had never had that luxury, and it didn't appear that she wanted it. Instead of running, she clung tighter to the memories, the house, everything, and it wasn't only for the children, it was for her own sanity.

Having made his way from the den to the kitchen, he paused a moment in the doorway. The cries from upstairs were slowly muffling and he knew Michaela would be downstairs soon. Trying to determine what he could do to make her feel better. His eyes settled on the teakettle and he decided that a nice cup of tea would work. He'd already poured the water and lit the fire when he realized that he, being a supposed guest in the house, shouldn't be brewing tea, but with a shrug of his shoulders he threw the thought from his mind.

The soft smell of chamomile tea greeted Michaela as she descended the stairs, weary after such and ordeal and prayerfully grateful that Katie was finally sound asleep. Thinking that perhaps Hawking may have already left and that she might be alone, she was surprised to find a cup of hot tea placed into her hands at the bottom of the stairs. A gentle smile cocked to one side noted her surprise.

"Drink, it'll make ya feel better." Hawking turned back for the kitchen, leaving Michaela, obediently sipping her tea to follow him.

"I didn't think that you'd still be here."

"Well, I am." He poured himself a glass as well, and turned to her, sipping the warm liquid, watching her as she moved across the room to lean against the cabinets.

"How did you know?"

"I could hear her. She's got strong lungs."

Michaela blushed, "I'm sorry. Did she wake you up?"

"Nah, couldn't sleep much."

"Neither could I." A pained smile and then a sip of tea. She seemed suddenly to become aware of his scrutinizing glaze. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye and then back to the center of her cup. "It's just everything that's been going on lately." She sighed. "Between trying to care for the children and working, Katie's just so small it's hard to be away. And then there's the trail. It's hard not being there. I'm relying on information on Matthew and Howard is bringing in newspapers about this and that. I don't know what's going on and I really just want to be there and see if for myself."

"Then go."

"I can't! I c… can't. I'm barely keeping things together as it is. I can't even fathom trying to stay in Denver for who knows how long, and even if I could I can't go that long without working."

Her eyes looked at him, searching his like an injured fawn, tears glistening at the bottom of her lashes. A few bats of her eyes and the tears spilled over, silent tears, without her face leaving any recognition that she was crying at all.

Sully couldn't bear much more. A silent pain was screaming from every pore of her body, asking to be relieved. He wanted to tell her, he wanted to tell her everything, but his tongue caught in his mouth and he lost his words. He took a few steps toward her, a hand reaching out to brush at the stray tears. Michaela's eyes fluttered at the touch, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she raked her top lip through her teeth and whispered, "There are times I want it all to end so I can move on, but then the thought of it terrifies me because I know what the end will be."

Sully's hand left her cheek and moved to the curve of her neck as the other smoothed down her feather soft hair. He took another step closer, losing himself in their proximity. He hadn't been this close to her yet, "It's going to be ok. This will all end ok."

Michaela stared back into the narrowed eyes, and suddenly realized how very, very familiar they were. They were like Sully's. The realization made the tears flow faster. They were so blue, just like Katie's. Michaela was inclined to believe the man before her, even though she knew so little about him. He believed his words, his thoughts, but she needed his certainty. "You promise?"

Another small smile, "I promise."

She heard his voice just barely, somewhere in the back of her mind realizing that she recognized the voice, but more importantly, she felt the warmth of his hands on her neck and face. She felt the gentle pressure to pull her forward and she followed freely, leaning into him, eyes dropping closed.

All thoughts left Sully's mind as Michaela's soft skin rested under his fingertips. Then, so softly, he felt his lips just barely brush hers, smooth skin on skin, but before the kiss was complete, he felt the rapid tickle of her lashes across his cheeks. Then, a firm hand press against his chest.

Michaela's eyes opened just as her lips met the tender flesh hidden beneath the strands of facial hair and her mind screamed. _What are you doing!_ For a horrifying moment, she actually lost her breath, finding herself unable to breath as a hand pressed against the firm of her chest.

"This can't happen." She whispered, feeling his arms loosen around her. Ashamed and angry with herself, she lowered her head to the floor, in the seconds that it took Hawking to step away, a huffed sigh telling her that he felt the intensity of what had almost happened as well. All she could think of in the next seconds was Sully. He was all she could see before her eyes, not because of shame for what had almost happened but because of desire. She wanted him here, to hold her like Hawking had, to promise her the hope that she wanted. Hawking just reminded her so very much of Sully, his mannerisms, his eyes. She longed for him to _be_ Sully, but the thought was completely ridiculous and she didn't want anyone other than Sully.

_You can't have him. YOU CAN'T HAVE HIM! _Her mind screamed over and over. She barely heard the sigh of defeat beside her.

"I'm sorry." Hawking didn't look her in the eye, but she lifted her eyes to meet his unashamedly showing the tears like a badge of honor.

"I think you need to go."

For a moment, his mouth dropped as if to say something and then closed again. Turning dejectedly, he walked to the door his mind racing through what had just happened, trying to find a way to fix what he'd just done.

_Tell her._ The answer seemed so simple. If he had spent any time debating over how and when he would tell Michaela about his charade the debate was over. His hand had been dealt. He had no choice, but as he turned back to her, hand reaching for his hat, ready to release part of his disguise she saw her back turned to him. Her shoulders shaking with unheard sobs, he realized that he had been wrong all along.

_You can't tell her now; you've already done too much. Look at her; it'd destroy the last of her reality. No, you came up with this plan. Now you have to see it through._ The window of opportunity had opened and shut and he hadn't even recognized it.

A hand flew to his mouth in an effort to hold the panic that shifted in his chest. He turned and rushed to the door slamming it shut behind him and stopping only when the frigid air hit him. Only then did he realize that tears already ran down his own cheeks, matching those he'd wiped from Michaela's face earlier. Unable to go farther, and unwilling to leave Michaela alone, he sank to the wooden floorboards of the porch, a sob escaping his lips as he fell. He sat there, in a crumpled heap in the cold, his sobs matching the same ones Michaela cried in the warmth of the kitchen.

* * *

_Michaela stood against the wall, thrusting her body has hard against the stable structure as she could, her palms pressed flat to the smooth surface. She wished that she could disappear into the painted walls, and yet she hoped that the sturdiness would have enough strength to support her. She was quickly realizing she didn't have that strength herself. _

_Out of the corner of her eyes, she could see the green door open and Sully step through, shutting it behind him. She didn't turn her head in his direction; she didn't have the energy and to be perfectly honest, she was ashamed of what she'd just said to him. She wished that he'd just keep walking, that he wouldn't speak, or say anything else, but with the gentle stride of his steps, she knew that he would not skirt around this issue. It needed to be addressed head on, and that's what he planned to do. _

_With as much anger as she wanted to throw at him, as much as she wanted to hate him at that moment for the simple fact that she needed to level blame someway, she needed to believe that her circumstance was not just shoddy fate, she couldn't muster any of those feelings. Instead, his presence in the little hallway, clad in a buckskin tunic with the familiar musky sent of his skin and hair, made her warm when her world seemed to be made of ice. He not only discontinued her need to understand why, because the subtle blue in his eyes reiterated the more important question. "How will it be fixed?"_

_He took his stance before her, head lowered, the blame she'd tried to level on him, already present by his own doing. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. If anything happens to Brian…"_

_It was hearing the words out loud, said by Sully who seemed to have such a grasp on hope and faith that jutted Michaela forward. She felt as though the world were a rug being tugged out from underneath her and she reached for the only stable object she could find. She threw her arms around Sully, "Oh, please God no!" She sobbed, fingers curling around the edge of the leather tunic, trying to grasp what she'd lost. _

"_The Reverend was right. It wasn't your fault." The cloud in the crystal eyes faded by her omission. Even if Sully thought he wasn't to blame, the thought that she thought he was would have destroyed him. He lowered his head, knowing exactly what she, now, needed to hear. _

"_Well, it surely whaten yours."_

"_Sully? I don't think he'll last until the doctor gets here, not now that's he's slipped into a coma." It was her darkest secret. The one that had been plaguing her every waking thought, that seemed to ghastly to speak aloud. She had no idea how to explain it to Matthew and Colleen. _

"_As far as I'm concerned, the doctor's already here." Faith. _

"_I can't. I barely know the procedure. If I make one wrong move he might lose his sight forever or even worse. He might not even be Brian again." Her throat constructed forcing her to choke the last of her words. Sully's eyes narrowed. He'd never seen her so uncertain before. Until now it had been her secret, that there were moments that she was so shaken in her faith, that it was paralyzing. She'd had to hide these doubts deep inside and push through, it was the only way to have anyone take her seriously. The only person she'd allowed to see her less than sure of her every move was her father, and now Sully. _

"_Ya've done operations ya didn't know before. I was there, remember?"_

"_But this isn't the same." Panic wanted to scream the words at him, but she couldn't seem to speak over a whisper._

"_Why?"_

"_Because he's family."_

"_All the more the reason." He spoke defiantly, firmly. He spoke fact, not letting any of Michaela's doubt influence what was truth._

"_You don't understand. It would be one thing to lose him. It's be quite another if it was by my own hand." She knew by now that there was no other option to her. For there to be any hope, any chance for Brian she had to operate, but as she spoke the face of every patient she'd ever lost passed before her eyes, staring pointedly, helplessly at her and she was unable to save any of them. There were so many ways an operation could go wrong, a slip of the scalpel, an extra minim of Chloroform, broken sutures, infection, none of them could be purposefully stopped. She was at the mercy of Fate, the same Fate that brought her here in the first place. _

_Finding it impossible to stand on her own two feet, Michaela crumpled forward, two arms wrapping around Sully's neck, feeling his arms, his warmth wrap around her. A soft hand rested on her head as if to shield her from whatever harm may come. _

"_It's ok," he whispered, his own sadness creeping into his voice. "It's all going to be ok." Of that fact, though he was certain, and locked into their firm embrace, he shifted that assurance to Michaela. It was going to be ok. She could pull Brian through this. He had faith in her. _

* * *

"_It's all going ta be ok."_ Michaela could hear his voice echo through her ears as her eyes fluttered open, the last memory of a wonderful dream. She lay still for just an instant, spread diagonally across the bed as usual with her arms wrapped around Sully's pillow. She lay there and waited, waited patiently for the debilitating pain from the night before to wrap around her once more, making every breath an effort, ever movement a chore. It never came.

Shocked at how normal her heart beat within her chest, she pulled herself into a sitting position and looked around the room. Everything looked as it usually did. All of her bottles and pictures stood at attention across her vanity, the morning light pooled in through the windows, the comfortable chair with the heavy blanket tossed to the side sat by the fire, but the way she felt inside made all the difference. The second that she lived in stretched out before her like a long life, taking into consideration neither any moments before nor ahead of now. The 'now' was beautiful, picture perfect. For the first time in a long time, Michaela yearned to live and enjoy, not make it through the day keeping everything tied tightly together. With a swift move she threw the covers back, she was going to have ride before her day started.

Outside, the crisp cool air filled Michaela's lungs with a soft, sweet scent. A caw from above her head turned her attention to a hawk soaring through the purplish sky. She smiled. _It's gonna be ok._ Her dream came back to her in spurts, and the familiar voice echoed through her mind reminding her, reassuring her.

Right as she got to the gate in front of the barn, she turned, casting her eyes back to the homestead. There was a time, right before she and Sully had married when her mother visited, pointing out through the eyes of a Bostonian the primitiveness of her new homestead. She'd seen it to, and consequently angered Sully. He'd urged her to see the homestead, their home not in the world of Boston or Colorado Springs, but in the world that they were creating. It was indeed, a beautiful world.

The wind blew wisps of hair across her face, and her eyes closed. She could feel him, without a doubt. She felt as though Sully were standing right next to her, seeing their home the way she was, feeling the wind, hearing the birds. And then… a soft hand rested at her back, breaking her trance.

Sam Hawking had appeared from her side out of what appeared as nowhere. His eyes were downcast, his stance tired. The pressure of his hand at her back seemed to burn through her jacket.

"I just wanted ta apologize." Sully intentionally left the sentence open ended, implying their close call the night before, but really stretching the meaning out through the past two weeks. To his surprise, the broken woman from the night before wasn't the one who turned to him, a smile of understanding and peace etched across her lips. This woman was much stronger. In everyone's life there are moments when we are stripped, broken, beaten one night with no incentive to continue and no knowledge of how. It matters not if we're weak or strong, young or old. What truly matters is what happens, not that night of our darkest moment, but the next morning. More so than moving west to start over alone, than being a woman fighting her way through medical school, or adopting the children of her best friend, Michaela Quinn was strongest for the simple smile she gave him on this morning.

"Please don't." She shook her head, showing that she was not to level blame, but didn't continue to explain. Instead, she placed a hand on his arm and gently moved him aside as she spoke. "I think that I may take a ride this morning. I left some money for Brian. I though he might enjoy having breakfast at Grace's this morning. You're more than welcome to go with him."

Intrigued by the woman before him, and feeling as though she'd wiped his tears the night before away, Sully rested an arm on the fence and asked, "When will you be back?"

Michaela stopped, eyes lifting the fluffy clouds skirting swiftly across the sky. Her dress danced in the breeze. The leaves rustled. Lowering her eyes, she shrugged, "when the wind changes course."

* * *

Well, I'm hope between trips guys and I thought I would post a little something for you. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I hope to see you sometime again next week!


	13. String the Bow

**Chapter 12**

**String the Bow**

_- "Amid all this talk Odysseus balanced the bow and scanned it over. Then as easily as a skillful musician stretches a new string on his harp, fastening the sheep gut over the pegs at each end, so without an effort Odysseus strings his bow."_

True to her word, Michaela returned with the wind. Propelled by Flash across the small valley floor, flying across the waving tall grass. In the distance, she could see the homestead sitting solitary against the towering mountains. The upward thrust of air as Flash leaped over a leveled tree sent her heart flipping into her throat. It was a pleasant sensation though, reminding her of times of excitement and thrill. This morning had been energizing, the wild rush of wind through her hair, the sound of Flash's strong hoofs galloping along the earth, not having a destination or a time to be back. She hadn't felt the joy of blood rushing through her veins because of physical exertion in a long time. It made her feel free and the feeling didn't end as she came back to the homestead.

She dismounted just as she got to the edge of the property and with reigns in hand walked back to the homestead.

"That was a nice ride. Did you enjoy it?" She spoke as Flash nuzzled against her face, succeeding in winning a massage in return.

The absence of Taffy and Mags as well as the wagon told Michaela that Brian had long been in town, and the absence of hammering or any other construction sounds told her that Hawking wasn't close by either. It didn't bother her, though. In fact, she was pleased to have a few more moments to herself.

After drawing a new bucket of water and filling the trough with fresh oats, she pleasantly sent Flash to chewing on an apple. "Good girl." She hummed patiently, gently stroking the side of the large moving jaw.

When the juicy flesh was consumed, leaving nothing but the bare core, Flash turned back to Michaela, wiggling her flabby lips and exposing a solid row of sturdy teeth. The large beast looked as though she were chatting away about the morning's ride and how much she missed just being out with her human friend and how glad she was to see a smile on Michaela's face. Lowering her giant neck toward Michaela, who now was gently stroking at her broad flanks with a wire brush, Flash moved in a way as if to suggest a kiss, bumping her nose against Michaela's forehead before sliding down the edge of her face, her hot breath blowing at the loosened copper locks. Michaela giggled, dipping out of the kiss and embracing her beloved horse with one arm as the other made the long, gliding strokes across the shiny fur. The barn door behind her opened.

She could hear the clank as the door swung open and collided with the wooden wall behind it, but thought nothing of it. After all, Hawking should be around here somewhere. As far as she knew, he wasn't supposed to go into town until this afternoon. She didn't turn around. In fact, she didn't even register that anyone else was even in the barn until the frothy voice that always seemed so mocking of her broke the quiet serenity.

"My, you're a hard one to catch. I've been looking for you all morning." Michaela's hand stopped mid motion, a physical show of her surprise and discomfort. The thought that he put her so on edge made Shelton Howard smile.

It was as if the morning had been a fairytale, a story that she would get to remember but was to fantastical to be true. With the mere sound of his voice, the spell was broken. Her smile faded, her body tightened, and she loosened her grip on Flash who, in turn nuzzled her arm in concern.

"What do you want Mr. Howard?"

"I merely was curious to find out if you had thought any more about my proposition."

"I didn't believe any more thinking was necessary. I gave you my answer." With a loud clank, Michaela dropped the brush in the bucket next to her feet and turned to look at him.

Howard merely smiled, undeterred, always undeterred. What did it take for this man to leave? The inability for Michaela to make him go away was going beyond frustrating her now, now she was beginning to get frightened.

He took a few steps closer, backing her up against the edge of Flash's stall. "Yes, of course. I only thought that you'd change your mind." His voice lowered to a husky whisper as a stray finger reached out to trace the edge of her jaw line. Michaela fought the urge to run. Instead, she lowered her eyes and glared at the darkened man before her. An eyebrow raised.

"Why would I change my mind?"

Another step. "I can give you what you need." Much to Howard's surprise, she didn't back away this time.

"And what is that?"

"Stability, support, protection." Michaela inwardly cringed at the last word. _Protection? _Like she wanted his protection?

"What makes you think I need those things?"

Howard laughed, this time as a sign of being a little uncomfortable by the present turn this topic has taken. "My dear, every woman needs those things."

Michaela didn't speak her reply; it wasn't necessary. She could already tell by the way Howard's gaze moved from light mockery to confused contempt that he understood. He began to back away. "You do too and if you think you don't your mistaken. I can fix that. I can help you." Still the silence echoed through the barn. "I can be the same kind of man your husband was, but I can be better. Everything, I can do everything, be everything that he was, only better!" He voice rose in a fit of barely controlled aggression and Michaela stared wide-eyed, unsure of what needed to be said or done.

Then, with a sudden swift motion, he jolted forward, hands grasping at her. "I'll prove it." There was no anxiousness, or anticipation in his voice, just a strong determination. Michaela wasn't scared, though part of her knew that she should be. She just simply couldn't help but want to laugh. It was an odd reaction, but the same thought screamed through her mind. _You can't prove it. You can't be like him. No one can. _The realization was beautiful, the remembrance that Sully was one of a kind and that he had chosen her to love and had given her Katie. Even Howard, who knew next to nothing of her husband personally, recognized that there must have been something there, something unique. "Name one thing that he could do and see if I can't do it better."

The challenge broke Michaela from her trance. Just one? She could name a million things that made Sully unlike anyone else. Yet, somehow she was up for the challenge, trying to think through everything she'd ever heard Sully say and seen him do for the hardest thing for Howard to try and emulate. Her eyes scanned the wooden barn, now darkening as the sun reached directly overhead. In the wood surrounding the oversized door was an old tomahawk. It had once been new and shiny, taking the place of prominence sheathed on Sully's belt, but it had been passed to Brian when Robert E. finished a new one. It had been Brian, while practicing with Sully, who had stuck the tomahawk in the door jam. After Sully left, Brian had lost interest in the hobby.

Michaela's eyes narrowed on the tomahawk and she nodded in his direction. "Sully used to be able to hit the tip of the fence post." It was all she said, but the way Howard seemed to fluff at the suggestion told her that the challenge had been taken. Turning on his heels, causing his black overcoat to flying out behind him, he made his way to the door, ripping the tomahawk from the doorpost.

The doors flew open to the outside, revealing Howard to the world, arms outstretched, mid motion of the push but making him appear as though he were lifting his hands to the heavens. He stepped out into the yard, turning briskly back to Michaela who was lagging behind in the doorway. She watched him with unconcerned eyes as she wrapped her arms around her, pulling her shawl around her body tighter and leaning against the edge of the door. She neither spoke nor gave any indication that she was going to.

"Where? Here?" A finger jutted out, pointing at a fence post. Unsatisfied with his choice, his finger moved along the long line of posts, following the motion with his feet, walking in a wide circle across the yard. Then, he stopped, his finger pointing straight ahead to the post sitting at the other end of the barn. He smiled slightly and turned back to Michaela with his half smirk. Her eyes paused on the post a moment longer before moving back to him, daring.

Howard lifted the tomahawk, shaking it little in a pointed wave before turning back to his target. He concentrated, eyebrows tensing, mouth tightening, arm lifting with certainty. Then… with a fast thrust, he hurled the object through the air.

The crack of the tomahawk against wood echoed through the trees. Michaela jumped; her heart shuttered. Her eyes tightened shut, and for a brief moment she wondered what would happen if Howard were right, if he had succeeded in hitting his target. She had no idea what that would mean.

However, as she opened her eyes once more she was relieved to see the tomahawk lying still on the ground. Her eyes darted accusingly back to Howard who carefully ignored her stare.

Behind the hen house, Sully heard the sharp crack and instinctively recognized the sound. He'd heard it many times when he was first practicing his throwing with Cloud Dancing. The only question was who was throwing his tomahawk? Brian was in town and though he knew Michaela had returned he'd hardly thought that it would be her.

Walking around the edge of the barn, his eyes immediately fell on Howard and he froze. He shifted his attention between Howard and the lonely tomahawk, not even recognizing Michaela standing next to the barn door as he stepped out and picked the sharpened tool from the ground. He did see her though, when he straightened. Her eyes fell on his, silently questioning him, and he her. He wasn't quite sure what situation he'd walked in on. Michaela certainly didn't look distressed, but Howard on the other hand stared back at him as an alpha male of a pack of wolves stared at a challenging rival.

Sully hadn't decided his next step when he picked up the old tomahawk, but after seeing the look on both Michaela and Howard's face and feeling the old familiar grip of the handle, he found himself shrugging out of his coat. Michaela's brow lowered in a questioning glance, but Sully turned away from her, throwing his jacket over the side of the fence before turning to stare at the previously assaulted fencepost.

With a jerk of his wrist, he flipped the handle over in his hand, his knuckles tightening and releasing against the wood. Dropping his hand to his back leg, he lowered his eyes behind him, remembering the familiar motion. With a wide and arching swoop, his arm curved through the air releasing the tomahawk at just the right time. It almost completely disappeared from view until stopping, buried into the very edge of the post. Bull's eye.

Sully froze, only now realizing what he'd done and what it'd mean to each of the people who'd seen it. To Howard, it was a challenge, to Michaela a potential tool for remembering. He was afraid to turn around and instead made the track back to the post.

"Mr. Howard, I believe that it's time for you to leave." Michaela spoke bluntly, eyes following Sully's form. She didn't look back at the beaten man until she heard the gallop of his horse away from the house.

Hawking returned to her, hand lifted up, presenting the tomahawk in his palm. "Where did you learn that?" She asked, seemingly unable to take her eyes off the shimmering blade.

Sully cleared his throat, buying time for an answer before settling on, "an old friend taught me." Michaela's eyes lifted, shocked, to his face and in that moment he was so certain that she'd call him by name. He wanted it, wished for it even. His eyes softened inviting her to say anything, but she didn't. She didn't say anything; she just simply looked back at the well-crafted tomahawk resting in the outstretched palm.

Objects are inanimate. They are created without thought, without reason, and without memory. Everything that surrounds our lives relies on us to give them a purpose and then to fulfill that purpose. It is our responsibility, and so it went with the tomahawk. Sully had given the object a reason for existing. He could use his skill as a means for the tomahawk to use the best of its ability. He gave it power and he was teaching Brian to do the same, but when Sully left the tomahawk all its meaning was forgotten. It lay for months stuck into the side of the doorpost, unused, unwanted, and dead. The tomahawk had thus become a memory, sacrificing itself in order for them all to be able to look back.

Now the object lay in the palm in front of her as if it were new. Hard and shiny, glistening in the sun. The tomahawk seemed full of life and excitement because it was in the hands of someone who knew how to use it to the best of its capabilities. That's the way she wanted Sully o be- alive and active, not forgotten in the corner of an old barn.

Reaching out, Michaela closed Hawking's hand around the wooden handle. "No, keep it." Her fingers stung from his touch, but she did not move her hand. Instead, she lifted her head ducking under the cover of the shaded cap so that she could see the ever elusive of his eyes. The blue seemed to glow at her. _I know you._ The sudden thought that darted across her mind startled her, causing her to jump back. It had come and gone and she could barely call it back. For all the speed her mind was racing, she couldn't place the where and why of the thought, only that she'd thought it. She'd had no reason to believe that Hawking was anyone other than who he said he was, but she still wanted to run from him.

Wiping her hand off on the edge of her skirt as though she were trying to rid herself of the fire of his touch, she backed away, eyes darting left and right but refusing to land on his face.

"I… um…. I have some house work that I need to take care of." She moved to walk around him, but he caught her by the arm. Unsure of what he would say next, she glanced back at him.

"I'm going inta town to get more supplies. Ya need anythin'?" Startled by her sudden end to the conversation, Sully hoped to use his question as an excuse to see her eyes, to understand what she was thinking, but she wouldn't give them up. Why was she pulling away from him now?

She shook her head so that the wild wisps danced across her face. "No, I'm fine." She turned briskly and walked up the hill, not looking back, if she had, she would have see the familiar grip of a hand across a well worn tool, and the effortless flip that sent it spinning in the air.

* * *

Sully dismounted from his horse and tossed the reigns next to the trough in front of the General Store. His mind was busy, telling and retelling the moments from that morning, trying to determine what it was Michaela had seen. Had she figured it out? Did she know it was him? He was fairly certain she hadn't; she would have confronted him about it if she had. For once, he couldn't determine what she was thinking, and he wasn't in a position to ask her. He was beginning to worry.

He took the steps into the store two at a time and met, when he got in there, an ashen face conformed and puckered into a frown- even more so than usual.

"Ah, I hoped you would be coming. There's something I gotta tell ya." Sully stopped, seemingly paralyzed for the moment, realized just how many different roads this moment could take and they all would take him to the same place. His eyes darted around the room, not a soul. Still though, he didn't want to risk it. He nodded to the back room.

Slipping a letter out of his breast pocket under the cover of the fallen curtain, he handed it to Loren. "Can ya get this to Matthew for me?"

"Yea, what is it?"

"I gave him everything I could remember 'bout the attack a few days ago. There were a few things I remembered since then." Not pausing to look at the paper in his hand, Loren shoved it into the pocket of his apron.

"I'll go in an hour."

Only now did Sully cross his arms, having gotten his task out of the way, and lean against the back row of shelves. "What happened?" His eyes grew slightly darker.

"Ah, it's about that Howard fellow. He still botherin' Dr. Mike?" A slight bob of Sully's head was his answer.

"What's he done now?"

"Orderin' an engagement ring." The edge of Sully's jaw pulsed. "He wouldn't say who for, but I reckon it ain't good no matter how ya look at it."

"When was this?"

"'Bout an hour before you arrived." Sully mentally calculated the time. Howard had to have gone straight to Bray's from the homestead. He wasn't sure what that meant. Obviously, he still thought that he could get Michaela to agree to him, but how was what Sully didn't know. There was a multitude of ways Sully could think of going about this, the least of all would be trying to kill Hawking first, and he didn't put it past Howard. It was certainly something he was capable of if provoked, and this afternoon certainly would count as that.

The only thing now that Sully was certain of was that he needed to get home to Michaela and fast.

Here's the next chapter guys… it's a little shorter than the others, but I hope it was still enjoyable! Hope you liked it!


	14. Very Near

**Chapter 13**

**Very Near**

"_This is in my mind when I see these pretenders to marriage acting so recklessly, wasting the substance and insulting the wife of a man, who I say will not long be absent from his friends and his native land: indeed he is very near."_

Sully went straight home and back to work. He hadn't wanted to talk or eat. He just wanted to be left alone, to work and watch over his family. Michaela didn't seem to object, either. She wished to remain alone with her thoughts just as much as he did. That had been three hours ago.

Now, Sully laid his saw aside and looked up from his work like a prairie dog peeking out from the underground for the first time that day. With a swift swoop of his arm, he lifted the flattened board he'd been working on and leaned it to sit with its twin next to the barn. With a lift of his head, he sent a quick glance to the flattened area in front of the homestead, a gesture he'd made several times in an hour's span to make certain no one was there. This time, however, instead of moving back to another piece of wood to make another cut, he shoved his hands in his pocket and walked around to the front of the building, curious to know what Michaela was doing. He didn't have to go far.

The windows of the homestead stood open, airing the stuffy rooms after a thorough cleaning with vinegar and water. In the side yard of the barn rows of laundry jutted out from the building arching in the bursts of wind. Once he got close enough, Sully could smell the soapy bubbles that dotted along the surface of the laundry water.

Reaching out to run his fingers along the lace that dotted the edge of one of Michaela's camisoles, he felt crisp fabric bent under his touch. He'd forgotten the softness of the garment, the elegance and yet simplicity. He remembered now, though, and he remembered the way she looked in it, the way the seam lay smooth against her side, accentuating her curves. The white of the lace blending into the creaminess of her skin, and the lowness of the neckline resting just high enough to accentuate the tops of her breasts…. With a quick brush of his hand, he swept the garment aside, a little too forcefully perhaps, as if he were trying to brush the image from his mind along with the camisole. He stepped around it, allowing deep breaths to let the chilled air fill his lungs.

Just at the other end of the barnyard Michaela's shoulders heaved with effort, sending an ax crashing down upon a waiting block of wood. It wasn't enough force, though, for the head wedged firmly into the block and refused to submit. She tapped the rig firmly on the top of the chopping block, forcing the head further into the wooden block. Three blows and the wood finally split in two, each piece falling to the side. Michaela didn't reach for the newly split pieces though but straightened and rolled her shoulders, hoping to relieve the ache emerging between her shoulder blades. Finally, she took the logs and carefully stacked them in the dry box next to the barn. Sully watched.

Before he and Michaela married, even before they started to court he often found her chopping wood, and though she wasn't good at it and she wasn't strong enough for it, she still worked at it. He'd always had to fight the urge to offer to do it for her, and sometimes he did, but he never took the job from her hands. He knew how sensitive she was about men judging her by her physical capabilities, and, in the beginning of their friendship, about being judged by him. He'd always curbed the desire to take care of her, but now he didn't care. She'd already earned his respect long ago, and life was too precious for her to do such a hard task.

Michaela turned away from the dry box and directly to Sully, who had repositioned himself next to the chopping block. She smiled a faint hello, lifting the back of her hand and wiping at the sweat that collected at her brow.

"Let me." Sully reached for the axe in her hand, brushing his fingers along side the soft skin on her wrist as he did so. Suddenly the camisole emerged from the shadowy recesses of his mind.

The crack of the axe slicing through the wood announced the force behind his swing before she even realized the motion. Michaela jumped.

Arms crossed over her chest, one hand clutched at the neck of her dress as if she seen in the darkening of his eyes, the desire, the memories that echoed in his mind, Michaela watched the swift swing of ax through the air. She watched it all, the arch of the ax, the constriction of the arm muscles, the relax and tighten of the muscle that entwined through the Hawking's back. She could see the strain of the fabric across his upper body and the way the shirt, which hung mid thigh, fluttered with the motion. She tilted her head to one side, eyes narrowing, the image fading in front of her and replaced by a memory.

_Michaela tore through the forest, weaving from tree to tree. Was she in time? Would he still take her back? "Ya gotta choose the person whose gonna make ya happy. The person who'll be best for ya, and whatever you do, I'll be behind ya." The words from the night before echoed through her mind, giving her courage, hope, promising that her decision was the right one. How could she have been so foolish? Why had there been any question in her mind?_

_At the edge of the tree line, light filtered in, and she knew where she was. Stopping just as she got to the clearing, almost paralyzed with fear, she lost all words from her mouth. The lean-to stood to her side, and Wolf stretched across a blanket simply staring at her as if accusing her of three weeks of sleepless nights and worry his master had seen. It was fine, she would accept the blame; she blamed herself. The only important thing now is that he would forgive her. _

_A wooden log split in two with a loud '_thwack_.' Michaela moved to the edge of the tree watching each motion. In the spring of the year, they were far from needing the kindling, and there was no question in her mind that the forceful motion was therapeutic. She watched as Sully urged his body forward with each motion, muscles straining, his shirt fluttering around his knees. Despite her presence, which she was certain he was aware of, he kept his head down and eyes focused, the constant thump creating a soothing rhythm. _

_She moved forward at the end of a swing. With a subtle motion, he turned his head just so he could see her form from around the edge of his frizzing hair. He ripped the ax out of the stump. _

"_Hello Sully." The greeting sounded lame even to her. _

_He grunted, whether it was from the exertion of bending to place another log on the block, or verbal proof of his weariness she wasn't sure. "What brings ya out here?" Another thwack. _

"_I want to tell you how much I appreciate what you did." This wasn't what she'd come out here to say, but it was all she could think of, if only he'd look at her, it would make things more easy. _

_His hand ran through his hair, a motion she'd long wanted to perform herself. Another _thwack,_ "what's that?" _

_Perhaps she'd waited too long. _

_Michaela wanted to run into the forest and hide; she'd never felt so vulnerable before so open and raw. But, she bit her lip against her desire and stayed put. She had faced a boardroom of twenty male doctors for her entrance interview at Boston Memorial; she could face this too. Somehow, though facing Sully at this moment was more intimidating than twenty of the best-educated and respected doctors of Boston. _

_She took a breath, "You left me free to decide."_

"_So ya must have decided." _Thwack

_For Heaven's sakes look at me! She wanted to scream at him. Did he care at all? _

"_How do you know that?"_

"_I know." Was he accusing her? "You love David." He groaned under the force of another blow, but she recognized the ache in his voice to. He would have groaned even if he had been standing still. _

"_Yes, I'll always love him." She said simply, swiftly, gauging the reaction, she drew. The blue eyes that cut to her from the side betrayed him, telling her their true thoughts, and she knew that that phrase had hurt him, scared him. He still wanted her; he wanted her to be his. He turned back to his ax, bouncing it a little in his hand as she continued. "But that's the past and you're the present. We're the present. If you'll have me." There, that was all she'd come to say. She couldn't do any more. She'd made her decision, now it was time for his. _

_There was no answer. He didn't even look at her. Michaela felt her heart drop in her chest, her eyes instantly drying, widening. His lack of words scared her more than his answer. "Will you Sully?" She made no effort to try to expel the panic from her voice. _

_He turned his head from her, staring up at the sky before facing her again. When she did get to see him, she saw the faint curl of his lips, the last of the evidence that he'd been smiling, though he hadn't wanted her to see. In a second, he licked his lips, erasing all traces of the grin. "Will I what?"_

_Michaela sighed. This wasn't the way things like this usually worked, she could hardly think what her mother would say if she saw her being so open with a man. As far as she knew, women didn't propose. They also didn't become doctors, so that wasn't a good excuse. Summoning the last of her courage, she stared Sully straight in the eye uttered the words she knew he wanted to hear from her, "will you marry me?"_

_The ax clamored to the ground. His shoulders leaned with each step. He took her smooth hands in his rough ones. "Yes," his whisper was easily lost in the wind that blew through the trees. Then he sealed his answer, her promise, their pact, with a kiss. _

_Thwack, _the sudden crack jarred Michaela into reality. With a sudden movement, she turned on her heels and walked back to the house, ducking under the laundry and the fluttering camisole.

* * *

"Miss Dorothy said that I could break the article into a series. First, I'm going to talk about what it used to be like when there was buffalo in the area. Do you remember what it was like when you first got here?" Brian asked looking up from the rough draft he was working on.

Michaela stirred the okra she had frying in the skillet, thinking back over the past seven years, so many things had changed in that time. "The first time I'd ever seen a buffalo, I had just gotten on the stage coach in Denver. I had never seen anything like the west before, it was so quiet, so calm. I had not idea that a world like Colorado could exist, Boston was always so busy and bustling with buildings and people and streets. We had been gone from Denver for about two hours when the stage came to a complete stop. For five minutes, we just sat there doing nothing. The driver didn't come down; he didn't say anything. After a few minutes, I stuck my head out the window to ask what the problem was, but stopped suddenly. Scattered across the road in front of the coach were nearly twenty buffalo. They were huge, almost bigger than the coach itself. I remember thinking that I'd never felt so small in my life, not even sailing in Boston Harbor. Between the mountains and the animals, I'd never been so insignificant, so easily lost before. One of the Buffalo actually turned and walked alongside the stagecoach, stopping at eye level and looking at me on the inside. I don't dare think of what I looked like at that moment." She smiled faintly.

"I bet ya looked like ya did when Matthew tried to teach ya to milk the cow." At this, Michaela laughed aloud. She grabbed an apple lying off to her side and turned to toss it at him.

"Dinner gonna be ready soon?"

"There are still a few minutes. We'll wait for Mr. Hawking to come in from the barn." She turned back to the counter to reach for a knife when a flash of movement caught her eye out the window. She narrowed her gaze past her own reflection. Her hand tightened around the handle of the knife. "Would you mind sparing a slice or two for Katie? I'll be right back."

Stepping out the side door, Michaela wrapped her arms around her body in an effort to fight off the cold. She probably should put a shawl on, but she didn't anticipate being out here long. The sun had long lowered beneath the horizon and twilight set in turning the world to a muted blue. The crickets were beginning to chirp in the mountains. She shut the door firmly behind her so that Brian couldn't hear her outside.

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was strong and forceful, not backing down any longer.

"I wanted to give you the chance to apologize." Shelton Howard stepped out of the orchard.

"To apologize for what?"

"For the embarrassing way I was treated this afternoon."

Michaela's face was stone. "I don't believe there is anything to apologize for."

"What about they way I was kicked off the property while that homeless hillbilly who challenged my integrity was allowed to stay."

Michaela straightened and stepped forward, "what about the way you walk onto my land, into _my home_ and challenge my family, our security, and the memory of my husband?"

Howard accepted her challenge, "If you, Doctor Quinn wish to live in the past, to hope for a future that will not happen then you will destroy your family yourself." His voice lowered as he took another step forward, lowering his head. "I'm offering the out."

"I don't want your out."

"I'm your only hope."

"I can find another way."

"No you won't, I will guarantee it." _I will guarantee it_. His guarantee meant nothing. She would find another way; she had to. She refused to back down, and she refused to allow him to see it. Closing the rest of the distance between them so that they nearly touched, she seethed through her front teeth, "watch me." She'd barely completed the sentence when she felt her feet leave the ground.

The crack of her body against the side of her house alerted her to the pain throbbing through her body before she even felt it. Howard held her, pinned, feet barely touching the solidness of the ground. "You will lose everything, I _will _guarantee it! I am capable of much more than you could ever imagine. I always get what I want."

Before Michaela had a chance to react, Howard was jerked away from her, sending her sliding back to the ground.

"You better get off this land before I carry ya off myself." Sully growled, shoving Howard forcefully to the side, placing himself between Michaela and the scoundrel fallen on the ground.

Howard paused and looked from Michaela back to Sully. "You can't get away with this. I know who you are and what you're doing. I'll make you pay." Sully stood unmovable, even in face of the threat. Searching the darkened, angry eyes, he couldn't determine whether Howard knew what he was saying or not. All he saw was hatred and determination.

Michaela watched in silence as Howard stormed off the property, stunned at the speed with which everything moved. When Sully finally did turn back around to face her, he didn't find the relieved expression he'd expected. Sully questioned what he was really thinking he would find in the first place. Five years ago, he would have known that he'd incur her wrath if he'd over stepped his boundaries.

"How dare you."

"How dare I? Ya needed help."

"Not yours."

"He was hurting you."

"This is not your fight! You have nothing to do with us. You're going to be leaving in a matter of days."

"I can stay."

Michaela physically recoiled, the offer sounded too much like Howard's. "I can take care of my family."

"I didn't say…"

"This is not for you to judge! I am not for you to judge." Her mind scanned back over the past days, his eyes watching her, judging her. The last thing she could handle right now was to hear from someone else what she already thought of herself. "I realize I'm not the best mother in the world, but I'm doing the best I can."

Sully stepped back, trying to put space between them. He wasn't judging, he had never judged her other than to be utterly amazed by her strength, her power, determination.

His lifted his hands, "I'm sorry."

The way his eyes softened, the tension around his face relaxing, lengthening the stretch of the scar down his face, spoke of truth. The words were enough because they were honest. Suddenly feeling the sudden chill of the night air, she returned her arms around her, giving her the appearance of retreating into herself, but the eyes that turned up to him were questioning, wondering an unspoken question that Sully couldn't guess at.

She nodded slightly, sniffing. It was too dark for Sully to be able to tell if there were any tears in her eyes. Her head turned jerkily to the door. "The um… dinner should be ready."

Sully nodded. "Ok, I'll be in in a minute."

The latch of the barn door shut behind Sully with a click. He stumbled toward the workbench, fingers grasping for the box of matches that he knew lay somewhere on the surface. Pulling his glove off his hand, his fingers nearly froze as they felt around, but finally, they closed around the small wooden box. Flipping the lid open and grasping around a single match, he drew it forcefully across the top of the table, illuminating the room in a faint little glow. He flipped open the base of the lantern that hung on a hook in the center of the room. Flash snorted in her stall, as if stating her frustration at being woken at such an hour. It was only nine o'clock, but it felt like it should be much later, the weight of the day sat heavier on Sully's shoulders with every passing moment.

He had stepped over Hawking's lines today; he'd been careless, but everything had been necessary. Well, everything except humiliating the man for his lack of hand-eye coordination, that was just pleasurable, but everything else was necessary.

The bottom of the lantern snapped shut with a click, but Sully was lost in the dancing flames that grew taller with the turn of his wrist. Dinner had been exhausting. Brian was excited to talk about his article, asking him if he remembered when the Buffalo were so prevalent in the area. The boy had even tried to tell Michaela's story about the first time she'd ever seen the animals. Of course, Sully had heard the tale before, mumbled in a fire lit hotel room on their honeymoon. For the first time, Sully had gotten to see the creatures he already knew to be majestic through the eyes of an upright Bostonian. Somehow, the animals became more beautiful.

Sully had sat at one end of the table, listening to Brian's story. Every so often, his eyes drifted over to Michaela. After all, it was her story, but she never returned his gaze. She stared at her food, more interested in her next bite than Brian's story, but Sully saw through it. He saw that she was merely feigning interest to keep her mind elsewhere. There was nothing he could say, and Brian continued to talk not realizing that anything was wrong.

Michaela turned her eyes to Katie every so often, not even smiling at her daughter's attempts to make her mother laugh. It wasn't that she was mad or upset, she simply didn't see it. Yet, under Sully's careful eye, something shifted in Michaela's eyes. She had leaned over, wiping at the chubby little cheeks smeared with fried cornmeal when she paused. Her head tilted to one side as her eyes connected to the little blue ones. Katie giggled and for the first time during the meal, Michaela smiled as well, tapping the girl on the end of her nose with the tip of her finger. Then, Michaela sat straight, her eyes dropping to the plate across the table from her and gingerly raising them to meet the blue eyes that hovered just over the plate. Sully had been watching her and he saw her eyes flash, widening and then shutting tightly again. She dropped her gaze back to her plate, but after that, it seemed like every time he looked at her, she was staring back, urging his eyes to flow into hers. The bright color made him uneasy. This time, it was Sully who diverted his eyes.

Finding a suitable brightness, Sully stepped back, eyes looking around. Behind him, on the workbench sat his old tomahawk wrapped snuggly in an old rag and the little wooden figure, its shape defined even more today than the night before. Walking over to grasp the figure, he settled himself on the bottom step of the ladder, eyes straining over his creation and what he wanted it to become. A swift slice here, a long stroke there, and the dozens of minute details began to appear before his eyes. He focused so intently on his hands that he didn't hear the latch of the barn lift, or the door open. In fact, he was only vaguely aware of someone else's presence behind him as far as he could assume that it was Brian come looking for Wolf. It wasn't until he heard the voice force through the darkness that he realized that the visitor had come looking for him.

"Sully?"

* * *

Ooohhh so we have a revelation. So who do you think figured it out first, Howard or Michaela? Hope you liked the chapter!


	15. Solid Ground

**Chapter 14**

**Solid Ground**

"_She felt like a shipwrecked mariner when the stout ship has been driven before the storm and smashed by the heavy waves, but a few have escaped by swimming. How glad they are to see land at last, to get out of the water and stand upon solid ground all caked in brine."_

"Sully?" Michaela spoke and then paused, wide eyed. This was ridiculous. She was going crazy. All the events of the past two days piled before her, stacking against her, playing with her imagination. She saw Sully everywhere, in Hawking's movements, the way he ate, the things he said. Everything he did reminded her of Sully. She had told herself she was making it up; there weren't really as many similarities as she thought. She reminded herself that it was impossible, that even the faintest glimmer of hope would end in pain. There was no other reality than the one she'd lived with for the past two years. She had no idea what she was doing in the barn.

Sully's head shot up, turning at an angle so he could the speaker behind him, not taking the time to register the voice, only that it spoke his name, his _true_ name. Only then did his heart beat again, when he realized that it wasn't Howard, who had returned to make good on his promise, or someone else, equally willing to betray his identity. Instead, he found Michaela, standing rigid, arms thrown back head lifted in defiance. Nevertheless, there was a look of timidity in her face that told him she'd shocked even herself. No certainty lay in her eyes, but doubt. Sully stood and turned toward her- one smooth motion- uncertain how to answer, but before he could make his decision, she spoke again, her hands fidgeting restlessly at her skirt.

"You… you just look like…" her voice trailed off but she tried again, her face straining under the force to stay still and speak. "Your motions… the way you talk… the… the… tomahawk?" The last of her words trailed off in a self-conscious sigh and her mouth finally closed with a purse of her lips as if trying to seal her thoughts inside. What was she doing here? She felt so foolish, and now on top of everything else, hot tears of the hope she'd fought so hard to ignore threatened her eyes. Sully watched her chest hitch, her breath coming slightly quicker. "I'm…I'm sorry."The softness of her voice, admitting her mistake before quickly, with head lowered, turning for the door, jarred Sully into action.

He couldn't. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't let her walk out thinking she was wrong. He couldn't look at her face anymore with her weary eyes and burdened shoulders. He couldn't let her think that she was alone, that she had no one to fight with. He couldn't lie, but it wasn't safe here. He'd seen more soldiers around the area since Howard's first proposal. Tonight, after their scene at the house, he was sure Howard would send more. All the walls had ears.

With a swift snap, like a snake striking from its coil, Sully's hand closed around Michaela's retreating wrist, and he pulled her further into the barn, grabbing the lantern as he passed. He pulled her past the workbench, passed the ladder, under the hayloft and into a small side room once built to hold sacks of grain or lumber. He led her inside ahead of him and immediately shut the door behind him, his hands fidgeting with the handle.

He watched as his hands shook against the rough grained wood, and it wasn't until then that he realized how abrupt and perhaps frightening his actions were from Michaela's perspective. He'd acted before thinking, something he never did. The past two weeks had even worn on him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, his body tensed, preparing an encounter with a frightened Michaela. With a slow breath, he lifted the lantern and hung it on a peg next to his head. This time he forced his movements with a steady hand, but it was a façade. Inside his stomach knotted with a mixture of pain and anticipation. He didn't know where to begin this conversation, but in the horizon, he could see, just barely, the light of the sun, rising over him, bringing with it the day when he didn't have to worry about acting or talking too much like himself. In order to see the brightness of morning, though, he had to walk with Michaela through the darkness of tonight. He turned toward her slowly.

He had expected to see her standing back, alarmed, frightened by his abrupt actions, but she wasn't. Instead, she stood with anxious eyes, having dropped her hold on practicality. She had waited for him to turn, and then quickly closed the distance between them. She was prepared to lead them through the darkness.

An eager hand lifted swiftly to his hat, pausing just shy of the material and fingering the brim. Her eyes narrowed on his face, tracing the outline of his jaw hidden beneath the thick whiskers and the pinkness of his lips. She stared at his nose before traveling along the edge of the weathered scar to his eyes. Sully felt himself fighting against the dark hazel current of her eyes. He couldn't be weak. If he let go now and gave in to each desire that coursed through his body, they'd both drown.

Michaela's arm moved from left to right, slowly pulling the hat from his head and dropping it, unwanted to the side. The mass of Sully's hair, exposed to the light stayed curled into its form, held into place by a dusty blue handkerchief.

In a movement of unison, Sully bent as Michaela reached around to undo the knot at back. The handkerchief floated to the ground.

The look on Michaela's face was almost unbearable to watch. As it began to crumble, the muscles around her mouth and chin tightening, twitching, her brow knitting together, she found another bout of strength. Her face would relax and she'd bat her eyes, before falling once more. It was almost as if she couldn't decide which emotion to show.

She snaked her fingers up, through the mane at his temples and pulled the hair down over his shoulders, now grown longer than what even she was used to. She felt the soft, curly strands run through her touch. It was as if Sully appeared before her very eyes and there was no longer a struggle of uncertainty. A sob broke the silence.

Stifling the sound with her left hand, she reached out to him with her right. Sully took a step closer so that she could touch him. He did not say a word; he did not make a movement. He didn't do anything until he received her permission. This moment was not for him, it belonged to her. It was her second of reality, to know the truth and feel it and to taste what it meant. It was her single chance for vulnerability and he would watch over her as she took it. He would stay in control. Their battle for freedom was not yet won.

Her soft fingers brushed against his forehead, following the natural rise and fall of his face, trailing down the scar splitting his cheek before twisting through his beard. Her hands came to rest against his jaw, cupping his face so gently it was as if she were afraid he'd shatter before her eyes. The first hot tear spilled from the corner of her eye, rolling down the crease of her nose before disappearing into the softness of her mouth. She pulled him toward her.

Sully complied, bending down so that she could place the softest of kisses to his forehead. He cherished the feel of her lips on his skin and her closeness as his face tucked closely to her neck. When she pulled away, his skin chilled in her absence, but she quickly placed another kiss to his temple, pressing her lips firmly against the indenture. Her fingers traced the track that her lips took, traveling over the ridge of his brow before caressing the tender skin of his eyelid; there, she placed another kiss. She brushed the top of her nose alongside the crease of his, leaving a trail of wetness from her tears which flowed quietly from her closed eyes. She planted a kiss to the side of his nose.

She moved around his mouth, choosing instead to place a kiss to his cheek, feeling the roughness of his beard across her sensitive skin. She moved to his upper jaw and left a line of three kisses down the hardened bone, not like an impassioned lover, but with the slowness and tenderness of a traveler finally returning home to remember what made life taste so sweet. Wherever she kissed, Sully felt the dampness of her tears and lips nestle in his beard, slowly sinking to his skin beneath. Then she placed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, like a mother to a skinned knee. She leaned back, eyes scanning over the area before repeating the effort not anticipating a response in return. Her caresses were not for him. They were for herself. She kissed him again and again each time with more force matching the buried cry that grew more solid in her chest with each passing minute.

Finally, her kiss became a sob, a gasp for life bristling over his mouth. She rested her head against the roughness of his whiskered cheek, and the torrent began. She cried, gasping for air after each sob. Two arms finally reached out and snaked around her shoulders, pulling her closer, trapping her arms between their bodies.

"You're here. You're here, you're here." She chanted through her tears, trying to make herself believe it was real. Then, as suddenly as the tears of desperation and relief appeared, they were replaced with something else. Her words took on another meaning. The solidness of his arms around her became something she didn't have to convince herself of. She could feel him, too much.

With a quick thrust against his chest, she tried to back away, but his arms didn't give. "You're _here!_" The whisper turned into angry cry. The swell of tears turned in to something new, something she couldn't contain, and it burst from her with rage. The side of her fist connected with his chest and then again and she struggled from his grasp. She bent one direction and then the other, even arching backwards trying to break free, but he remained strong. He would not let her pull away from him in her anger.

Each strike of her fist against his chest stung, reaching further than the outside flesh. Each blow bruised his soul. There was one for everyday he had lied to her and then some, but his physical body blocked out the feeling of her fists, hitting him as hard as she could muster. All the physical became numb and Sully was left with only the sound of her cries, heart wrenching.

Then, suddenly Michaela pitched forward, losing all of her strength at once. She fell into his chest, fingers grasping at the edges of his foreign shirt. She now clung to what she had tried to repel seconds ago. In the span of minutes, she'd moved from disbelief to joy, love to anger, and now she rested in an unnamed emotion somewhere between relief and sorrow. She was reliving everything she'd felt for two years all at once. There was no way she could contain it.

Michaela's knees buckled out from underneath her and she barely felt herself drop as the two arms tightened around her, taking her weight on to his and lowering them both to the floor.

Sully knelt, his knee becoming something of a side rest for Michaela who sat next to him, her legs curled under her splaying her dress around them like a lake. Sully cradled her upper body across his chest, as he would have Katie after a terrible dream. His strong hands floating across her back up her neck, through her hair. She wept. She wept until there were no tears left.

Even after she stopped crying, she didn't move. She simply sat still and lay against the crook of his arm, feeling his warm hands run soothingly over her body. She slowly felt herself return to her body, as though she'd been gone for a long time. The tears on her cheeks were drying and cracking against her skin and her breath still came in shuddered gasps. The beginning ache of tension teased at the muscle around her eyes.

_His hands were touching her. Sully._ She couldn't wrap her mind around it. She didn't know how. He was here, in Colorado, in her barn, holding her. How was this possible?

"Where have you been?" She breathed a sigh, not looking at him, but content just to _feel_ him. One arm stretch the length of her back, supporting her body against his while the other moved to stroke her cheek. As soon as she spoke, the magnitude of her question weighed on her ears. She felt too tired to hear the answer tonight. "Wait… I… I want to know… just… not now." She sniffed, and buried her head further against his chest.

The crickets outside the barn chirped louder now, enveloping them in the welcome blanket of nature. It felt as though they were the only two in the world. They didn't speak; they just lay, lost in their own thoughts, feelings. Finally, after several more minutes, Michaela spoke again. "No one can know." It was a whisper almost of regret.

Sully's thumb strummed over her tear stained cheek. They were tears he had caused. "That's up to you now."

"Howard will kill you before anyone knows you're still alive."

"It doesn't matter. It can end here. Just say the words."

"He'll kill you."

Her arms wrapped around his torso pulling him closer to her body. "Ok."

Finally, she lifted her head from his chest and looked at him, "and I don't… I don't think Brian should know yet. I don't want him to worry, for this to distract him."

A stray finger traced the edges of her jaw. "Anything you want."

Her face crumbled once more and she tucked it into his neck, hiding her tears from the world. "Oh God, you're alive."

"I love you." Sully whispered into the dimly glowing room. The moon light was getting brighter and brighter, filtering in through the slits in the walls.

Pulling herself from his chest, she sat back, craning her neck so she could see directly into his eyes. How could she have thought those eyes belonged to anyone else? "I love you too," She'd dreamt many times she'd get another chance to tell him. Slowly each of her dreams were coming true.

A finger ran up the side of her neck, gliding up her cheek. Sully's eyes rested on the wetness of her lips. He longed to kiss them, devour them with his. He fought the urge to roll her from his lap into the soft hay floor and to cover her with him, but they hadn't yet earned that type of freedom. It would only cause mistakes; something would be discovered. Instead, he pressed his lips tightly to the center of her forehead. His eyes fluttered closed with the motion, "I love you," he repeated against her skin.

A loud slam from the homestead drug them from their fantasy, landing them back in reality. "Ya need to go; Brian'll be lookin' for ya."

Michaela's eyes fluttered open, instantly asking him to take the words back. More time, she wanted more time with him. The blueness of his gaze softened. He wanted the same thing, but they were to continue the disguise, this was how they should proceed. She had to go back to the cold, bedroom in the homestead, knowing all the time that Sully lay just a few feet away, huddled in a cold barn. Unable to do anything else, unwilling to risk a different strategy, Michaela crawled to her feet, and with a smile of regret and a soft kiss buried deep in the beard that hid Sully's identity from view, she left.

* * *

Sully ran his fingers through his thick hair, trying to detangle it as much as he could while he searched. In his other hand, he grasped tightly to the brim of his hat, the means of his disguise. He stood in the center of the barn fully dressed, his eyes scanning the floor. He couldn't focus on his task. Instead, his mind kept wandering to the night before, sifting through the events as if they were a dream, but they weren't.

Sully turned from the foot of the ladder and walked toward the back of the barn, his eyes still scanning. When he got to the little room, he paused, hands feeling across the door as they had the night before and then he lifted the latch. He stepped inside. The lantern still hung on the nail head, long burned out in the morning chill, the scuffled hay was marked with the indent of his knees. He could still see the outline of Michaela's skirt in the straw, and right at the edge of the hay, half covered by the golden strands lay Sully's handkerchief, forgotten until now.

His search over, Sully walked back to the front of the barn, just carrying the piece of cloth, looking at it as if he were trying to decide what to do with it. He tossed his hat to the workbench and ran his hand once again through his hair. In the corner of the barn, right next to the door, the shudder of the window stood open just enough for him to see out. With his back against the sturdy wall, Sully could see the homestead; he could see straight up to the kitchen window that stared out over the porch. It made all the difference to know that there was one person behind that window that knew about him; who was waiting on him. It made the wooden structure seem more like home.

The determination of another day was approaching. Today would be different from the day before; it would have its own challenges, good or bad Sully didn't know. It didn't matter, though. Today was today and they could deal with anything that came their way.

With a flick of his wrist, Sully tied the handkerchief over his hair and reached for his hat.

* * *

Michaela stared out the window, her hand caught mid stir in the biscuit batter. _He'll be coming out of that barn any minute now. I'll see him walking up the hill._ She waited with anticipation, hoping to catch just one look at him. After she'd left him the night before, the minutes seem to flick by like hours, each passing second making itself known by the ticking of her bedroom clock. She hadn't been able to sleep at all, but had spent the night using all her will power not to get up from the bed and go outside once more. The feet separating them seemed to be laugh at her, stretching itself further and further until if felt as though they were miles apart- so far apart that there was no hope of getting back to him. She struggled to breath.

The slam of a bottom cabinet door startled Michaela back to work again, her hand stirring the batter a few more rotations, her eyes staring intently on the motion before dropping shut once again. The night before came to her in littler spurts. The blue eyes quick and gentle, the hair tied up and stuffed under the cap. Michaela could feel the coarseness of his beard under her lips, the calluses of his hands snagging against the softness of her hair; she could taste her tears and hear his words, "I love you."

"Mommy!" A hard tug on her skirt sent Michaela tilting to one side. "Are you sweepin'?"

"What?"

"Ith's not time to sweep. Ith's time to eat!" Her slender little finger pointed at the bowl tipped in Michaela's hands. Not quite understanding what Katie meant, Michaela looked back at her own hands, trying to see herself through the girl's eyes. Then she giggled what would she have looked like standing straight, eyes closed and not moving at all. She bent to scoop Katie in her arms.

"I'm not sleeping. Would you like to help me put the biscuits in the pan?"

Katie nodded.

Michaela stood Katie on a kitchen chair and set a pan and the clay bowl before them. She dipped the little girl's hands in flour (which happened to be the two year old's favorite part of the matter) and showed her how to pat the pieces of dough into little round circle and put them in the pan.

The side door opened and shut and Brian stepped into the kitchen, setting a bowl of butter and jar of molasses on the counter before shrugging out of his coat. "It's pretty nippy out there."

"It's it?" Michaela asked slightly concerned, but Brian didn't notice.

"Yea," her eyes lifted across the room to the window, wondering how Sully kept from freezing to death each night.

A breeze blew in as the front door opened and Michaela felt her heart stop. For the first time since the night before dread entered her heart. Could she do this? Could she stand right next to him and pretend that he was just another man? She lowered her head to the table, suddenly fascinated by Katie and her patting job. Her larger fingers danced around biscuits already in the pan, rounding them out.

"Hey!" ten smaller fingers wrapped around hers, trying to stop the motion, trying to pull them up. "My biscuiths." Katie's brow furrowed in consternation as she looked at her mother. Two steps landed in the kitchen; Michaela felt her body tense. She didn't have to see him to know that he was in the room.

"Mornin', Mr. Hawkin'."

"Mornin', Brian."

Michaela's eyes dropped shut; how had she never recognized this? How many times had she heard that very conversation between Brian and Sully? How many times had she heard Sully pronounce their son's name the very same way he had moments before? Brian even used the same tone with "Hawking" as he always had with Sully. She wondered if the boy even realized it.

When Michaela opened her eyes again, Katie was gone. She straightened in time to see a blond streak run for the door. "Mizer, 'Awin'!" She ran toward Sully, her arms stretched out. Sully knelt and when she got close enough and scooped Katie into his arms. She squealed with excitement and he smiled. "Mornin' Miss Katie."

Michaela watched the scene stunned, it only now dawning on her that she was watching a father and daughter who had been interacting all this time and Katie was completely unaware. She had done so much to try to keep Sully in their daughter's life and now he was here and he was holding her and making her laugh. He was smiling at her and telling her good morning. Tears stung at Michaela's eyes and the ball of dough she had been holding fell from her grasp landing on the edge of the pan with a thud. Michaela instantly reacted, lowering her face to the pan and retrieving the dough. She worked it over and over in her hands.

"Ya ok, ma?" Brian asked, startled by the sound, but returned back to his task of pouring milk into glasses after a quick glance up.

"Yes, I'm fine." She spoke against the tightening of her tonsils in the back of her throat. She couldn't cry, not here, not now. Her hand tightened in a fist around the ball of dough.

"I make biscuits!" Katie explained to Sully as he casually walked them toward Michaela.

"I can see that. They look like pretty biscuits." He stopped right before her and Michaela could see his shadow on the table. She looked up. "Mornin' Dr. Quinn." His voice dropped to a more personal note, but his eyes narrowed, asking her another question. _How are ya this mornin'?_ He could see the unshed tears sitting just on the brink of rolling down her cheeks. He could see the way her eyes shifted from him to Katie and back. He reached a hand out to touch hers, perhaps to loosen the fist that oozed dough between her fingers, but she dropped the dough and jerked back under the pretense to wipe her hands on her apron. She couldn't stand to have him touch her, not that and maintain her self-control.

"Eggs," she squeaked, barely even able to produce that sound. Then, she straightened and repeated again, "we need eggs for breakfast."

Brian turned from the milk glasses, "ya want me to go get 'em?"

Michaela's eyes lifted to Sully's, her brow knitted together. _I can't be stronger than this, please understand._ Her hand jerked at her apron string. "No, I'll go get them. Just put the biscuits in the oven. The apron dropped from her waist and she draped it over the chair. She needed to get out of the house; she needed to be able to breathe.

* * *

The glass slammed down onto the counter with a hollow _clank_ and Howard grimaced as the warm liquid rolled down the back of his throat. A stray hand moved to wipe an excess of the amber liquid from his lips. He cut his gaze up to Hank, standing at the end of the bar. With the back of his fingers, he shuffled the glass in the bartender's direction. A sly smile curled beneath the mass of blonde locks.

"That's your fourth one today." Hank said and paused, lowering his voice to hold a hint of mockery. "It ain't even noon yet." Two blank angry eyes stared back at him, silently commanding another glass. Hank didn't back down though, Shelton Howard rarely came into his saloon, but now that he was here Hank wasn't about to let him go without a little probing. "Four's the limit if ya ain't had lunch yet."

Howard's eyes lowered, "say's who," he growled.

"Says me."

Howard's mind drifted back to the night before, standing in the shadow of the Sully homestead being physically thrown off the property by a nobody, a no name living off charity. Another 'no' in twenty-four hours was all he was going to take. In a surge of anger, Howard shot to his feet, hands reaching forward and clasping around the collar of Hank's shirt.

"Let me tell you something. I don't take no for an answer. I get whatever I want, whenever I want it, and the people who stand in my way are gonna wished that they just let me by like everyone else. They'll all be sorry." Releasing the cotton shirt with a forward thrust, Howard grabbed his coat and hat, stepping out into the mid morning sun. He met Johnson coming up the walk. Upon seeing his boss, the young aide immediately removed his hat.

"Sir, I was just coming for you…"

"and I you. I needed to tell you that it has been presented to my attention that Dr. Quinn is a possible flight risk. Her behavior has been irrational and erratic lately. We must step up the security of the area."

Johnson just stared back speechless. "But sir, she hasn't been anything but the most cooperative of what we've asked from her."

"She's hiding something!"

"She's trying to lead a normal life for her kids with us constantly meddling in her affairs."

"Dammit, Johnson don't ask any more questions! If you won't follow my order, I'll find someone who will. Up the security detail on the Sully homestead this instant and I'll write new orders when I get back to camp."

Johnson stood motionless, not sure what to do next. It wasn't until Howard leaned forward whispering a threat. "You don't want to find out what happens if you refuse." Howard didn't bother to see Johnson's reaction. He just turned and went back into the saloon.

* * *

Oh my, I have been looking forward to writing this chapter since I've started this story and you know what? I don't think it turned out too shabby. Lol. I hope you liked reading as much as I enjoyed writing it!


	16. Like My Father

**Chapter 15**

**Like my Father**

"_How I wish that the gods would invest me with power as great as his, to take vengeance on the men who woo my mother, for their outrageous violence, for the intolerable insults of their scheming brains!"_

It was later in the afternoon. Michaela hadn't been home but a half an hour when she found herself standing in the midst of the little orchard watching Katie swing back and forth on her swing. The methodical movement forward and back, along with the chilled wind that made the heaviness of her coat feel warm and safe was enough to make her sleepy. It had been a long day.

Michaela hadn't been able to concentrate all day. Her mind kept traveling back to the night before, the night in the barn, to the warmth of Sully's arms and how relieving it was to have a place, a person, where she could just sit and cry. She thought about this morning, about the bitterness of it all and her inability to deal with it. Her dreams were slowly coming true, one by one, but she had never thought it would be like this. She had imagined the time to be happy, with both the children enthralled with their pa, wanting to tell him stories and to play (that was more Katie's desire for anyone). She had envisioned standing in the kitchen cooking dinner, knowing that he sat at the table, watching her every move, the flick of her wrist, the sway of her skirt against her legs, and she had spent her nights dreaming of being able to take Sully up to their room, where it was warm and safe and no one could touch them.

She had had all those things now, but she hadn't known to enjoy them. She couldn't remember what Katie said when she introduced Sully to his daughter; she hadn't known to pay that close of attention. She didn't take the time to savor listening to Brian and Sully's conversation about his article; she was trying to get dinner finished. She hadn't known that the man who sat at her kitchen table for every meal she cooked, talking to her casually about the jobs he'd done and how her day had gone, was taking the time to savor those small twists of her hips.

She hadn't known. But, if she had she wasn't sure she would have been able to stand that either. She wasn't sure if she could handle everyday being as distracted as she was today, each passing thought drifting back to him. The thought that she couldn't find the time to be alone with him, to talk to him as she pleased, to touch him the way she wanted made the hours ahead of her seem endless. Then, there was their situation.

Each knock on the clinic door stopped her heart. There was a moment of paralysis where she simply stared at the door, envisioning the man in the blue uniform standing on the other side waiting to issue a search warrant, or worse yet to tell her that they've discovered everything. Each moment of silence in her day was filled by a horrible image she had conjured, the army, with Howard in the lead, arriving at her door, announcing her deception and dragging Sully out of the homestead, and Michaela knew she'd never see him again. The end. Having him back for only a short time seemed more brutal than never knowing what happened to him.

Michaela leaned back, eyes stinging, chest aching, forgetting that her nightmare was not yet reality, and collided with a tree trunk. The thud knocked what little breath she had left out of her lungs. She thrust her hands into her pockets and her fingertips connected with the edge of a piece of telegraph paper. Horace had given it to her when she went to pick up her new medicines, but by the time, she arrived back to the clinic she had another patient waiting and the note lie forgotten, buried deep in her coat pocket. She pulled it out.

"Mommeee! Wook how high I can go!" Michaela's eyes raised to the little girl swinging before her, the blonde curls fluffing around her face and neck as she swung back down to the earth. She struggled to smile.

"I see. Be careful." Her eyes dropped back to the telegram.

The crinkle of the paper bending in the wind sounding like the first crisp of leaves fallen in the autumn. The envelope opened easily, giving up the secrets of its inside without fight. The little piece of paper, scribbled with a message was clear.

**Last day for defense. I have one last thing to try. – M**

Michaela's eyes narrowed on the letters. _One last thing to try_. The words implied a level of desperation, a glimmer of the chance that Michaela had been trying to dismiss, a chance that the verdict would be guilty. If that was so, Sully would never be able to return to Colorado Springs. The wind blew the paper in her hand.

The crunch of the brittle, frozen ground was the first to alert her to the fact she wasn't alone, followed by the tingle of her skin and the way her hair stood up on the back of her neck. She was wrapped in the awareness of her own body, knowing instantly the proximity of the man walking up behind her. She didn't move from the tree.

"Afternoon." Sully appeared on the other side of the tree trunk, his hand connecting with the bark just above her head, allowing him to lean in to her. It was an intimate stance. _Sully…_her mind breathed in his presence. Then it tensed. _No, not Sully. He's Hawking. He's got to be Hawking. _

"Hello." She answered short. Even that seemed too much. She lost her breath in the sheer presence of him and in the silence that fell between them.

"It's a cold day today." Sully felt the tension between them, but somehow seemed to be unable to fix it. He felt his heart thud with intensity, panic. Had he lost her? After everything that she had been through with him was it his own doing that finally pushed her away?

"Yes it is." She diverted her eyes to the house, an obvious attempt to keep her eyes from him. "It looks like you got a lot done on the house."

"Yea, I'm pretty much finished with the roof."

A swift nod. "It'll be nice to not have the draft upstairs." Her arms tightened around her arms, further shutting him off from her. Between the two of them, there was such tension it seemed to separate them by miles. Michaela stood, her eyes lowered to the ground, Sully, with his eyes on her. He wanted to touch her, to kiss her. He needed her to reassure him that they would pull through this. He wasn't sure if he'd earned any of it.

His voiced lowered beneath Katie's breathless giggles coming from the swing, "Ya gonna stay made at me forever?" He wince, his words reminding him of another conversation beneath the branches of a tree. He thought he was going to lose her then too, and he almost had.

Michaela ventured her first look at him out of the corner of her eye. She sighed. She could see the panic etch further into the lines around his eyes, the worry darkening his iris. "I'm not angry. I'm…" she turned to him in a swift motion, leaning her shoulder against the tree, "I'm… afraid. I don't know what we're doing or where to go from here. I feel like we're hurdling toward something that we can't stop and it's just going to run us over." She stopped to swallow, to swallow the tears thickening on the back of her throat. She felt a hand slip into hers and remove the telegram.

"Mommeee! Watch me jump!"

Michaela's eyes shot up and she craned her neck around Sully's shoulder to see her little girl. "Katherine Sully if you jump you won't be swinging again for a week." Suddenly the gleeful smile brightening the girl's face disappeared, replaced by a pout and she instantly began to slow her swing.

Michaela returned her attention to Sully, to find that he was staring straight at her. "I think we need to start making plans."

"For what?"

"Anything."

She nodded harshly, trying not to let the tears flow. She'd fought too hard to accept it as a loss now, but she might not have another choice. She slipped the telegram from between his fingers and folded it in her palm. A hand landed on her arm. Michaela could feel the heat of his breath across her forehead. "I didn't do this ta hurt ya. I wanted ta protect ya. I don't trust Howard. He's underhanded and manipulative, and he's got things planned that we ain't even seen yet. I wanted to watch 'em, but I didn't want ta hurt ya. I'd never do that on purpose."

Sully watched as the caramel locks bobbed up and down and suddenly, she lifted her face to his. A tear trickled out of the corner of her eyes. "I know." She whispered thickly.

Sully moved his hand to her face, brushing away the tear with the edge of his thumb and curling his fingers around her neck, but as soon as the motion had settled Michaela knocked it away. His brow lowered in hurt, but Michaela's glanced over his shoulder. "Little eyes see everything." She said simply, biting her lip.

He let out a breath and took a step back, once again putting a respectable distance between the two of them to be strangers. The last thing they needed to Katie to let slip about Mommy and Mizer 'Awing touching.

Having skidded to a stop, Katie stood from her seat and wandered toward them. "but I wanted ta jump, Mommee."

A stray hand swiped at Michaela's cheek as she knelt to the little girl. "Jumping's dangerous." She lifted the little girl to sit on her hip, "I bet Brian would tell you his story about what happened when he tried to jump out of a tree if you asked him." She picked strands of blonde from Katie's face, pulling them out of the line of her blue eyes.

"But I whaten goin' ta jump from the tree; jus the swing." Sully chuckled to their side, catching Katie's attention. She threw him a sweet little smile and, wrapping her arms around her mother's neck, she lay her head over, staring up at him with her big blue eyes. Sully smiled and couldn't help himself, her reached out with a finger and ran it down her cheek.

"The swing too, darling." Michaela bent to rest her cheek against the top of the little girl's head. Her eyes lowered shut in comfort, keening her ears to the gallop of a horse up the path to the homestead. With effort, she lifted her head and stared out between the trees. Sully followed her gaze.

Michaela could see the flash of blue first, jostling up and down with each gallop. Her body instinctively tensed, it was a solider coming for them. She forced herself to thrust the reoccurring vision of the soldiers dragging Sully away from her mind and she straightened. Katie stirred in her arms, "no, Mommeee."

Sully's hand dropped from Katie's cheek as he turned to the rider coming up the walk. His shoulders squared, ready to take on the confrontation that they were all certain would ensue, but as he took a step forward, Michaela reached out and pulled him back.

"This isn't for you to handle, Mr. Hawking." She said his name pointedly.

Sully turned swiftly back to her, but before he could speak, she continued "You are a guest in my home, it is not appropriate that you handle my affairs." His eyes lowered, prepared to argue with her.

"I did this to protect _you._"

"I know, but we must protect you as well. I can handle this."

Sully sent another look over his shoulders, his lips pressing together tightly. "I don't like this."

As the rider got closer, Michaela began to move into action. "I would ask that you take Katie inside, though." She broke his concentration, going ahead with her plans. He reached down to shift the girl into his arms.

"I don't like this."

"I'll be fine."

Sully's eyes lifted to the homestead. "I'll be watching everything from the window. You need anything, ya just look for me." Michaela nodded, her eyes already straying to the figure dismounting. She moved to walk past him, but he grabbed her wrist, stopping her mid step. He stooped his head and whispered directly into her ear. "Don't not let him touch you."

Her eyes cut to his, reassuring, she nodded once more and walked out toward the solider.

The private stood next to his horse, tall, waiting for her to come closer. His eyes narrowed as the man and little girl turned back for the house, continuously glancing behind them. He noted the strange behavior, the touches, the whispers; that was no casual relationship.

When Michaela got close enough, he slipped his hand into his coat pocket and handed her a letter. "Dr. Quinn, we have orders…"

* * *

Katie sat on the table, knees tucked under her chin and her blankie covering her legs. She perched the tip of her nose on the top of her knee cap so that she could smell the constant stream of the familiar musk. Her eyes moved between each of the adults in the room, feeling the tension between them, but unsure why it was there.

Hawking sat at the end of the table to her right, the order that the soldier had given to Michaela laid flat in front of him. His forehead rested in his palm; his eyes trained on the black ink of the scribbled lettering. He didn't move.

Michaela stood next to the door, one hand lifting the gentle drapery to the side so that she could see out the window. The navy blue of two soldiers sat on the steps of the front porch, one smoking a cigar, the other reclining against the railing, hands lifted over his head. They hadn't moved in two hours. Michaela felt trapped. Dropping the drape, she turned over, pressing her back tightly against the window.

"What do we do now?" Two sets of blue eyes turned up to her, one wide and curious, completely naïve of the situation, the other set as dull as hers.

"I'm thinking…" He sighed, resting his chin on his thumb, the curve of his knuckle pressing into his mouth.

Michaela took a few steps toward the table, her fingers pressing against the flatness of the table top. "Perhaps you should leave for a while."

"What?"

"You could go to Denver or stay in Soda Springs until…"

"We ain't got the money for that, Michaela."

"They're going to figure something out if you stay here." The desperation creeping into her voice.

"I ain't leavin' ya!" His voice raised to match hers. "I ain't leavin' ya here to do this by yourself anymore." He sat back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, his mind decided. There was no swaying him. He was staying, and though it was Michaela who suggested he should leave in the first place, who was nearly paniced at the prospect of their secret being discovered, she was thankful for his promise. Her mouth opened slightly to say something, eyes crystal and clear. A small hand at her shoulder stopped her before she could speak. Katie had pulled herself up to stand next to her. A small hand held out in front of her.

"Blankie help, Mommy?" Michaela looked at the white cloth held out in front of her and then up at Sully who matched her gaze. They'd both forgotten the little girl's presence in the room amidst the turmoil to the moment. Neither had taken the time to stop and explain the situation to Katie; neither thought that it was something she needed to know now. Michaela tugged the little blanket from Katie's hand.

"It will, thank you sweetheart." She bent over and placed a kiss to the chubby little cheek. She forced a smile that in turn placed one on her little girl's face. Pulling the little girl into her arms, she sat her on the floor. "Why don't you go up to your room and play with Wolf? Can you do that for Mama?" The curls bounced before running off.

"Come on Woof!" The sound of six feet clanked up the stairs.

When they were once again left alone, Michaela's eyes rested back on her husband. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make herself see him as anyone else. "Thank you." She whispered, throat thick. Sully's brow lowered, alarmed at her tears, but Michaela just shook her head. "For not leaving," she explained further with a nod, trying to shake off the pressure behind her eyes.

Sully's hand reached out and wrapped around her hand, running his thumb across the tender flesh inside her wrist. The sparks tingled over her skin, running up her arm and down her body. Her heart seemed to stop beating in her chest. Her eyes peered down at him, the mismatched color deepening with their proximity, taking their toll on Sully as well. His hand tightened around her wrist, desiring to pull her into his lap, to kiss her like he hadn't the night before.

The front door opened, and her hand was gone. She darted from his side and turned toward the door.

"What's going on?" Brian stood, mid doorway, swinging the door shut behind him. Michaela stared at him blankly for a moment that Brian didn't even notice. "Why is the army outside?"

Sully glanced at Michaela from the corner of his eye and saw she hadn't moved. He slid the order to Brian's end of the table. "They've stepped up security to round the clock supervision."

"What?"

"They say that I'm a flight risk." Michaela answered, jarring into motion.

"That's ridiculous. You're not going anywhere."

"I know, I know." A hand lifted her forehead, trying to relieve the tension of the situation. She moved to stand next to Brian. His eyes turned to her, knowing she wasn't telling him everything. He pleaded for her to tell him more, but Michaela didn't relent. She refused to explain Howard's proposal and her answer, which she was certain brought this all on.

"It ain't fair." He whispered softly and then again, louder. "It ain't fair!" He turned for the door, sending Sully to his feet.

"Where are ya going?"

"I'm gonna tell them that they can't stay here. They gotta get off this land." He turned back for the door.

"Brian…" he didn't' stop. "Brian!" Michaela lunged at him and caught him by the arm. "Let them be."

"This ain't fair!"

"It's not for you to argue with them."

"Someone should! Sully wouldn't a let this happen! He wouldn't let ya have to deal with this!" The words were pointed, the lid that released the feelings he had kept bottle for so long. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't be Sully.

"Brian," Michaela sighed, her hands coming to rest on either side of Brian's shoulders. "I'm fine, we're all going to be fine." She could see tears in the eyes staring back at her. Brian bit his lip, his eyes sneaking to Hawking standing at the end of the table as if realizing that he was still there.

When he turned to face Sully fully, he no longer looked like the little boy who had grown up before his eyes. Brian looked like a man, a man that Sully would be proud of. "They take the barn?"

"Yes," Michaela whispered by his side.

Brian nodded and looked at Hawking. "Ya should stay here for the night then, sleep by the fire. Ya shouldn't have to stay in the barn with 'em."

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Brian turned for the stairs, leaving Michaela and Sully staring at each other from across the table, both aware that they had just witnessed the precise moment when their son, became a man.

* * *

So It's been a while guys! Forgive me, though. I hope you enjoy this chapter!


	17. Not Enough

**Chapter 16**

**Not Enough**

_-"Is it not enough, men, that you have been carving up a good portion of my possessions all this time, while I was still a boy?"_

The soft sounds and whispers of the den filtered through to the kitchen where Michaela kept her head bent intently over the dishes, but though her eyes were fastened tightly on the blue print plates, she strove to hear every word said between Sully and Brian, even though they said nothing in particular. They were simply moving the furniture.

"I think ya got enough wood to last through the night."

"I'll sleep close to the fire." So the conversation went, but Michaela didn't want him to have to sleep huddled to the fire, she wanted him warm and safe in their own bed. It didn't help any that outside the house men in blue swarmed the property like ants moving in and out of their mound serving orders and fulfilling their own desires. Michaela lifted her eyes to the window. The inside of the barn glowed a golden yellow, like a flame that had taken control, burning strong within the weakened wood walls. The wide door was thrown open, betraying the men lying across mounds of hay, sitting on the edge of the stalls or on the tops of feed boxed. Some men wandered from their golden surroundings, walking back up to the house, sitting on the porch, eating a jar of canned fruit they'd found in the spring house. She watched them with anxiety, knowing that their greatest reward stood just on the other side of the door. In all, Michaela had counted at least eleven soldiers, perhaps there were more.

A loud eruption of laughter cracked through the night air, filling the homestead with a joy that wasn't there. Michaela's eyes instantly darted to her right, to the den and met Sully's smoldering stare, his facial features tensed in self-control. He stood with his back to the first window, arms wrapped across his chest as he watched Brian's movements in front of the fire, but as their eyes met, his arms dropped and he, leaving his post, walked over to her.

"Can I help with the dishes?"

Michaela dropped the last plate with a clank, "I'm finished." Her words were a little too curt, betraying her nervousness, but Sully paid no mind. Instead, he clasped the stack of plates that stood before her with two sure hands and took them to the cupboard.

"You'll be careful tonight?" She spoke as she followed him, her voice low so that Brian and Katie couldn't hear them in the next room.

Sully couldn't help but smile at her concern. Michaela's eyes narrowed on the stretching lips; how had she not recognized that smile? "I'll be fine. I can take care a myself." His voice still held a level a humor, but Michaela frowned. She had a bad feeling, and if she had learned anything through this, it was that her feelings weren't usually wrong. Sully saw it in her eyes and instantly dropped the humor from his face. "Hey…" he raised a hand to lay on her shoulder, but was interrupted by a festering whine. Michaela took the opportunity to step out of his embrace.

"Excuse me; I think it's time for bed." She ducked from the kitchen, leaving Sully behind. He stepped around the corner and watched her retreating figure, the sway of her skirt as it ran along the floorboards and pooled when she bent over the coddle the little girl who stood, blankie in hand, whimpering. The tension that he'd wanted to spare her from, was everyway present in her movements, in her eyes, in her voice, and more so now that the army had descended upon them, sitting before their home like a cat ready for its prey to emerge from the rat hole. She had been the sole provider of their family for too long; she naturally wanted to wrap him into her safe embrace as well, protect him from the world. They were both trying to give that embrace, but neither was prepared to take it. These things, they would have to relearn.

Michaela bent back, laying the little girl across her chest, a little blonde head tucking under her chin. She turned back to Sully, recognizing the familiar look with which he watched her. She'd seen it many times before. "If you don't need anything else, Mr. Hawking, I think I'll say goodnight." Sully nodded.

"G'night."

Brian stepped around Michaela, nodding at the older man, "I'll bring ya some blankets," and moved to follow Michaela and Katie upstairs.

In an armoire that sat in the middle of the hallways, halfway between Brian's room and Michaela's were all the extra blankets, pillows, and linens. Michaela stood before it now, eyeing the layers of fabric and vibrant colors that she had acquired over the years. Quietly, she was trying to determine what would be the warmest.

Quickly she reached in, pulled out three blankets, and handed them to Brian. "Ya think he needs three?" The boy asked. Michaela avoided his questioning gaze.

"Well, a few to sleep on so the floor isn't too hard and then for warmth." Somewhere, she found the courage to turn two self-conscious eyes on up to him, and found that he only shrugged. Apparently, her actions weren't as obvious as she felt there were. "Take this down there too," she added, laying a pillow on top of the pile.

"That all?"

Michaela frowned, surveying the pile of linens, she knew that Sully had long been used to sleeping on the hardened earth with not even a bedroll under him at times, but she didn't want him to sleep like this tonight. She wanted him warm and comfortable. She nodded absent mindedly, her eyes still taking an inventory of what she had. Just as Brian began to turn away, her hand shot out and caught his arm. "Wait, take this to." She added a heavy quilt into the mix. Brian looked at her questioningly, but Michaela simply shrugged. "Just in case." She mumbled, feeling her thoughts open and exposed under the glance of her son.

Michaela watched as he turned for the stairs, pausing for a moment, feeling Katie, who she had shifted to one side of her body cease squirming. There seemed to be a string attached to her, pulling her to the stairs, wanting her to travel the short distance to where she knew Sully stood, where Sully would sleep. She ignored the pull, filling her thoughts instead with Brian and how he was handling everything. He had taken over in a way that he had never done before, bending under the growing pains of his age and circumstance. Her thoughts were methodically thinking through the events of the day as she went through the motions of putting Katie to bed.

As best as she tried, though, thoughts of Sully couldn't have stayed away from her for long. As she crawled into the warmth of her bed, pulling the heavy sheets over her slightly shivering form, she wondered how warm it was downstairs. She curled onto her right side, not reaching for the comfort of Sully's musky pillow as she did every other night. Her eyes drifted to the fire, flames dancing together, intertwining, connecting, warming. She felt her own body warm, tighten, and ache. This distance of a few feet was far worse than hundreds of unknown miles.

Downstairs, Sully stretched on his back before the fire, the pillow under his head, blankets padding his back, a quilt covering his legs. He'd had to smile when he saw Brian come down the stairs with all the added blankets and pillows. It had Michaela's hand all in it and her words from earlier sounded in his ears. "You'll be careful tonight." He'd accepted the blankets and after another goodnight with Brian, laid them aside. But, he couldn't ignore them.

The floor was cold and the fire did nothing to warm him. He was alone while his family slept warm in their beds. Once again he was on the outside, looking in. He pulled a blanket out of the chair. It smelled like Michaela.

By the time, he made his palette in the floor it was as though he were wrapped in her embrace. The embrace that she'd fought against while in person, she now sent to him even though they were separated by layers of wood and nails. He longed even more for this disaster to be over. He wanted the day to come where he could wrap himself in her arms and loose himself in her scent, her hair, the touch of her skin. He wanted the chance to be with her without worrying about who was watching, or of letting his guard down.

Lying on his back, his arms resting behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling, as if he could see through the wooden floorboard, like he could see into their bedroom where Michaela was curled on her side thinking about the same things that he was. He felt his heart skip a beat, as if his body was synchronizing to the rhythm of hers. Unthinking, a hand moved from the back of his head, and lay across his chest, feeling the beat that lay beneath it, beating in tune with hers.

A soft thud at the other end of the ceiling spoke of movement, soft movement, and based on where it came from, he guessed it was from Katie's room. Suddenly, the rhythmic patter of feet ran across the length of the ceiling. He heard the squeak of a door that opened a few more footsteps and then they stopped.

Sully's eyes closed. He could see Katie crawling in bed with her ma, sinking into the feather tick and bed sheets. Michaela covered her with a quilt and she buried her little head into a pillow, long lashes, brushing against her cheek. Two rosy lips curled into a smile. His girls were together, snuggled warm in their bed. Sully wanted to be with them.

* * *

Sully first became aware of the hardness of the boarded floor underneath his back and then, ever so slowly of the shifting shadows waving before his closed lids. He took a deep breath, rolling his face toward the darkness and pulled the blanket tighter around his arms. A soft giggle, not his own, huffed in the still air. Sully lifted one eyelid.

Katie squatted not six inches from his face, nose nearly touching nose, and a little chubby hand pressed to her rosy mouth. She was already dressed for the morning in a little brown gingham dress and warm woolen sox, but her hair still frizzed wildly around her head, glowing in the dying firelight. Seeing one strand of blue pop up at her made her giggle more.

"Katie," Michaela's calm and measured voice broke the early morning silence of the homestead, "come over here and let him sleep." The curly little head turned, angling just enough so that Sully could see around the curve of her body to where Michaela stood at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a thick calico dress, her hair twisted into a tight rope and draped around the nap of her neck. She was buttoning the cuffs of her blouse. Her eyes skidded past Katie's and met his, running the length of his palette noting that he had used everything she'd sent down the night before and allowing herself a slight smile in his direction.

"But Mommy he awake."

"Well, then let him finish waking on his own." With a simple hand gesture, Michaela beckoned Katie to her.

"Can we eat pancaketh?"

"Well, let's see what we can do." Katie tucked herself into the side of Michaela's leg, arms wrapping through the mass of skirts, following the bigger footsteps as they angled toward the kitchen. Michaela turned back and gave one last look to Sully, who was now sitting up. The very edges of his mouth curved into a smile, not hiding his pleasure at watching mother and daughter together. Despite herself, Michaela smiled and lifted her hand to motion to the top of her head. Taking her hint, he rolled over and grabbed his hat, placing it on his head just as Brian's feet appeared at the top of the stairs.

The relaxation of early morning rituals was lost with an air of tension that flowed under the current. It was the tension of not being able to freely leave the house, of having Hawking work through all the barn chores and Brian gather everything needed from the Spring House. It was the tension of Katie sitting with her dolls in the windowsill watching as the men in blue began to come to life, moving around the property to their own content. If it had been up to Michaela, she would have chosen to go back to bed, to spend the day within the comfort and safety of her home, but, determined not to let them invade her day, or her children's sense of security, she fought passed her urge.

After breakfast, Brian was finishing the last of his homework and Katie was still playing with her dolly in the floor. Sully, stationed next to the front window, was quietly nursing a cup of coffee. His eyes shifted from the men outside to Katie who was mimicking his motion, but without the frown of seriousness in her bright eyes, to Brian, who tried his best to ignore their situation at all. Sully could tell, though, by the stillness of the pencil across the paper, that the boy wasn't succeeding. Sully sighed, turning his head to the kitchen, hearing the soft rattle of dishes. Leaning up from the door, he followed the well-worn trail into the kitchen.

Sully sat his coffee cup on the counter and closed the distance between them, standing shoulder to shoulder with her. "Can I help?" he asked quietly, catching a gaze from Michaela.

"I don't usually ask my visitors to help in the kitchen, Mr. Hawking." She kept her eyes trained on her hand, dipping a dishrag into the dishwater before her, but a slight smile tugged at her lips, and her shoulders eased in his presence, reminding her that it was all right to feel safe. Once she'd sponged the last of the soap from the plate she had been washing, she turned her eyes to him, recognizing the relaxed look with which he watched her and taking the moment to feel herself free of tension as he was. A slight motion of her wrist pushed the dripping plate before him. He took the plate from her and reached for a dry towel.

"Ya got a lot a patients today?"

"A few, but I mostly just need to catch up on paper work." A few seconds of pause with just the slosh of water between them before Michaela continued, "I should be getting a new shipment of medicine in."

"If ya let me know I'll come an' help ya with 'em." Sully stopped as he heard his words and felt Michaela turn to look at him. Her monthly shipments had become ritual over the years. . They would share lunch and work on organizing her supplies, him unpacking the boxes and she putting them on the shelf for the rest of the afternoon. Those afternoons had started early when they were courting and continued through the years of their engagement and marriage. They enjoyed the chance to see each other in the middle of the day and just to spend time with one another. It was the peak of normalcy, something that they couldn't yet achieve. Not while still protecting his identity.

Michaela felt the words leave her, unable to find anything to say, they both knew what she was thinking. Tears sprung to her eyes and she felt Sully's hand clasp at hers, "It's not forever. We just have to hang on." Lowering her head back to the nearly completed dishes, she simply nodded her head, unable to speak. Whether she was actually agreeing with him or brushing his words away to push through the moment neither of them was certain.

A loud slam of books came from the den and Brian stuck his head around the corner. "I gotta go. Ms. Theresa is gonna go over one of my old tests with me."

A rapid hand swiped a stray tear and Michaela's head bent even further toward the plates, her eyes batting furiously. She picked up the stack of plates and turned to the cabinets, "I must be leaving to." When she turned back around Sully had stepped away from the counter, everything from the moment before, the things that resembled the Sully she knew, his smile, his teasing, the gentleness of his gaze that was reserved just for her had been replaced by the characteristics he had fashioned for Hawking. For just a little longer she was living with a stranger, and she wasn't sure if this was a blessing or a nightmare.

* * *

Here's the latest chapter, hope you like it!


	18. Almost Over

**Chapter 17**

**Almost Over**

_~At this Telemachos bursts out wildly: "Upon my words, Zeus Cronion has made me crazy! Here is my dear mother, a model of propriety, going to leave this house and take another man, and I just laugh and enjoy it like a born fool! Come along then, hearties, here is your prize before your eyes, a woman who has not her equal in the whole country, not in Pylos or Argos or Mycene." _

Having left her wagon with Robert E. and dropped Katie off at Mrs. Calloway's for the day, Michaela was making her way to the clinic, but she was in no hurry. She knew what she would find when she got there- the absence of privacy, of time to herself to sit and think. Not that she wanted to do much thinking. It seemed that in the moments of quietness, when neither the children nor Sully were around to keep her mind in the present, her mind wandered, no longer to the past and what she had had, but to the future and what she could possibly lose. Her nightmare of Sully's identity being discovered had not ceased, in fact, it grew stronger with each passing moment, with each new face that appeared walking from her barn.

Michaela turned the corner down the boardwalk and the door to her clinic came into view. She stopped suddenly, a gesture of uncertainty. Two privates sat on the bench before the door and another leached against the wall. She would have to walk by all three men, trying to ignore the smirks and snide remarks they flung her way, throwing down at her feet as if lining her walk with intended shame. This had not been her first walk of the morning.

Sully had offered to walk Brian to the barn before he left for school that morning, under the façade of hitching the wagon for Michaela, but the truth was that he was not too keen on either Brian or Michaela and Katie being left alone outside with the rowdy group. He had heard their drunken laughter for most of the night, and the mass of blood shot eyes and unshaven faces that lounged around the barn and porch did not please him. Neither did the way the men joked and carried on each time he'd left the homestead to collect fire wood or milk that morning; it hadn't been much different on Sully's walk with Brian to the barn either.

Michaela had watched from the kitchen window. Her hands stilled over Katie's head, in the middle of a brush stroke. Her shoulder angled slightly to the window so that she could see Brian's entire path. She could make out what was being said, but she heard a slurred shout from a man standing on the other side of Sully and the roar of laughter that send on man falling off the step he had been seated on. As Brian turned, it seemed to Michaela to be in slow motion, and glanced at her throw the window. His eyes were dark and angry, nothing like the bright pale green that used to glow from his face. He wasn't the same boy that had lived with her two years ago, or even two days ago. He was hardening at the unfairness of it all. In that instant, she knew that something was going to have to break and soon, if for no one else but Brian's sake. This wasn't the man she wanted him to become.

Katie leaned back and nuzzled her head against Michaela's chest. "Mommy? My pony tail." Her quite command sent Michaela's hands back to work, focused on being ready when Sully brought the wagon up, and she was.

Michaela stood at the end of the table, a knot settling into the bottom of her stomach as she stretched her worn leather coat over her shoulders and pulled a little wool one around Katie. She lifted her daughter, firmly tucking her on one hip and with her other hand grabbed her bag. She could hear Flash neighing outside.

The door swung open and she would see Flash standing in front of the porch held firmly into place by Sully. His eyes were locked on her with such intensity that she wanted to turn away, to back further into the safety of their homestead, but she didn't. She refused to allow herself the pleasure. Instead, she put one foot in front of the other. At first, she had to think about the motion, nothing but what her hands were to do filled her mind. _Step, step, stop. Shut the door. Step Step. _

As she left the shelter of her sanctuary, she felt vulnerability drape her shoulders like a shawl and she was no longer aware of her motions, but the motions of everyone around her. Four privates stood at the end of the porch of her right. One, she had to pass on the stairs. Three others were walking from the orchard.

Then, she became aware of their words, the whistles. One of the men standing on the porch grasped at the edge of her coat sending her whirling in his direction. He just smiled at her glare.

"So what does a lady like Dr. Quinn do when she lets strange men sleep in her house at night?" The man on the step grabbed at her skirt, she nearly fell over trying to pull herself free. Her hold tightened on Katie, whose eyes went from man to man, taking each into consideration, knowing their badness, but not able to understand why.

"I don't know but I wish she would do it to me." One soldier croak, and they all let loose with laughter.

"Not such an upstanding lady after all, is she?"

Her feet landed on solid ground and in two steps she was at Sully. He'd come to meet her halfway. A tight hand latched onto the back of her arm, pulling her along the other side of the wagon. Michaela stole a quick glance up at him. A muscle traveling down the corner of his strong jaw twitched with tension, in fact, his entire body was shaking with a self-control she had never seen him exhort before. His face was set, stone, and she was afraid to say anything to him for fear that it would be the crack that shattered it all.

"Mommy?" Katie finally turned her head up to her mother, able to see both her and her new friend. "Wha are dey talkin' 'bout?" Michaela felt Sully's hand on her arm tighten. They'd reached the side of the wagon, the side away from the men still calling out and laughing despite the fact their subject was no longer there. Michaela lifted Katie and sat her in the wagon so that she stood eye level with her.

"They're just saying some not very nice things."

Katie's eyes turned down, saddening, the fresh blueness of her father's gaze filling with the compassionate look of her mother. "'Bout you?"

"Yes, about me, but it's only words. They can't hurt us with words." She forced a smile which was returned. "Now, scoot up on the buckboard."

"You be careful today" A low growl came from beside her, Michaela turned to find Sully wasn't looking at her or Katie at all, but scanned the men on the other side of the wagon, like an animal on the defensive.

"You too." She replied, but got no response. "Su… Mr. Hawking…" She stopped suddenly, shaking by her near slip. Sully's eyes cut to her, noticing it as well, but he was the only one. "You too, Mr. Hawking." She repeated when she regained her voice. This time, Sully turned and looked at her fully, his blue eyes crystallizing, taking her words to heart. He nodded to her; his silent promise. Then, he helped her into the wagon.

And so, remembering the stressful, humiliating events of the morning, Michaela stood frozen at the end of the boardwalk, trying to steady her heart enough to take that walk once more, this time, without Sully's help. She'd taken three steps when she felt an arm thread through hers.

"Good morning, Michaela." Dorothy hummed next to her, leading the way through the posted men as if it were a charge. Once safely inside, with the door swiftly shut- which Michaela did insticively now- Dorothy turned to her friend. "I think they've been waiting for you all morning."

Michaela's eyes fluttered shut. "Yes, They've been watching the homestead closer as well. Last night I had a hoard of them sleep in my barn."

Dorothy's eyes softened. "Oh Michaela, whatever for?"

"They have decided that I am a flight risk."

"That's ridiculous."

"I think that is understood by everyone involved," Michaela stated dryly, "but that didn't seem to bother them any." She sighed, trying to pull her mind from the situation at hand. "Enough about this. How are things going with you? I'm afraid I haven't had the chance to read the Gazette in a while."

Dorothy brushed it all off with a wave of her hand. "Oh never mind that. It's just a bunch of town gossip at the moment. I am however preparing to publish a three part article." The corners of her eyes tightened into a smile that was contagious enough that even Michaela caught it.

"So I've heard. I must thank you for that too. I haven't seen Brian so excited in a long time."

"Well, it was a wonderful idea of his. I believe he said Mr. Hawking helped him with it."

"Yes, I think they were talking one day and the topic just happen up." Michaela's heart beat faster with the mention of Sully's alias.

Dorothy's face solemned, "Michaela I think you are the kindest human being I have ever met."

"What?" Michaela drew back a little at the sudden compliment, a rosiness tinting her cheeks. "Why?"

"You took that man in when he needed help and gave him whatever you could despite your situation."

Michaela wanted to tell her. She wanted to tell her friend that she had acted on her instincts and that they had been right, despite how outrageous they were. She wanted Dorothy to know that she was living in a dream that she was frightened she was going to wake from because it was all so unrealistic, that Sully wasn't dead. He was home. She wanted to, but she didn't. She didn't say a word except shrug. "Well, he's helped us as well." Desperate to change the subject for fear that she wouldn't be able to hold her tongue, Michaela changed the subject. "What can I do for you this morning, Dorothy? Are you feeling all right?"

A freckled hand flew to her cheek. "Oh yes, I'm fine. I just thought you'd like to see this first hand." She held out a copy of the Denver Post. "I had it sent special this morning."

_**Closing Arguments Complete. Verdict weighing on Treason Case**__. _

Michaela's hands numbly grasped the edges of the newspaper and pulled it close enough that she could read it. "Closing arguments were finished yesterday. They expect the verdict sometime today or early morning." Numbness. Michaela fell back to sit on the edge of her desk. Her heart pounded in her chest and her eyes lifted to Dorothy. "Oh my god, I don't think I'm ready for this." She held, in her hand, the announcement that her fate, _their_ fate would be decided soon. Not by her or her family, but by a man she had never met before. It was the reality she had yet to grasp.

Dorothy closed the distance between them, wrapping her arms around her friend and pulling her close. "It's going to be ok. You're going to have an answer now. There'll be no living in between anymore. You'll know how to move on."

Michaela's eyes closed under the comforting embrace, and much to her astonishment, she cried.

* * *

Brian sat at the desk in the first row, long vacated by the school bell. Brian was the last student left. That wasn't too unusual. He was the oldest in the school now, and he and Theresa Slicker had worked many extra hours together for what would soon come. His college entrance exams.

He'd been taking practice tests for months now. At first, they were really hard, practically impossible, but slowly, with a little extra help and a lot of extra reading they were getting easier. Brian sat patiently in the desk, sketching a soft drawing of a buffalo on his slate as Mrs. Theresa graded his latest test.

The ticking of the clock sitting in the widow-sill beside the teacher's desk combined with the tapping to chalk against slate, rhythmic, patient. And then, a new sound, a brisk clearing of the throat told Brian the wait was over. He lifted his head and met Mrs. Slicker's dark brown eyes holding steady until she burst into a large smile.

"I believe you are ready."

The corner of the boy's mouth lifted as he reached for the paper. "I am?"

"You scored a ninety- four on your math." She handed the paper over.

Brian held the paper tightly between his two hands. It had been months of work, but he was finally there. His first math test had been destroyed by marks and handwriting that did not belong to him. Now, his own marking scratched across the surface followed rarely by a few comments. It seems that whatever he did miss, it was all careless. He knew this material backwards and forwards. He was now ready to sit for the college entrance exams. Yet, as soon as the realization of a dream came to him, another realization came as well.

Yes, he had worked hard on his exams, because he had needed something to work on, to focus on, but now that it was here, he knew he couldn't take the chance. Laying the paper back down on the table, he pushed it back toward his teacher. His eyes were lowered, ashamed to look her in the eye. "I can't go."

"Why not?"

Brian shrugged. "Things aren't good at home right now."

Theresa Slicker's eyes instantly narrowed, "did your mother tell you this." She had never held a fondness for Michaela Quinn, but this seemed low, even for her.

Brian instantly stood. "No, no it isn't like that. She'd help me if I wanted to go."

"And you want to go."

"I do want it but…I think I need to be here now. I don't think it's right for me to leave Ma."

"But she'll understand. She knows the importance of education."

If it were possible Brian's face fell even more. Mrs. Theresa was right. Dr. Mike would want him to go, but it just didn't feel right. She had spent her entire life being selfless for him and Matthew and Colleen. He could spend a little time being selfless for her. "I know. I ain't sayin' I ain't goin'. I just can't go right now. Please don't say anything to her 'bout it. I need ta tell her myself." On his teacher's puzzled nod, Brian stepped around, picking up his coat and his slate and left, leaving his test still on the desk.

* * *

The door to the springhouse stood wide open, exposing the baring shelves to the evening sun. A few slabs of smoked meet still hung from the ceiling, and several jars of canned fruits and vegitables that had been saved from the summer still lined the walls, but the stock was low, exceptionally low for this time of year. The sound of footsteps nearing announced yet another raid of the inner supply. A man dressed in solid blue stepped into the small building and took quick stock, reaching for a jar of spiced apples before leaving. He barely made it out of the springhouse before the top was wrenched of and half the contents swallowed whole.

"Ya're right, Gilman. Ain't too bad," he hollered, moving to meet some of the other men now lounging in the orchard, but inside the homestead, two little eyes watched him from the window.

Katie had curled herself in a chair overlooking the back yard, and, consequently, the springhouse, and she had witnessed the variety of theft that had taken place, though in her mind, she saw something much different.

She sat, legs crossed in front of her, arms folded at her chest, and a bottom lip pouting out further by the minute. Her eyes cut to Michaela who was pacing back and forth from the kitchen, pausing ever so often to look out the window.

Sully hadn't been here when she got home, and now that they had been home two hours, he still hadn't shown up. Michaela realized that they couldn't spend even moment that she was home together, locked in the safety of the homestead, and part of her had never expected him to stay here all day, alone, but the myriad of possibilities that could have happened rose before her, and her imagination was not gentle. On a turn from the window, Michaela looked over her shoulder, to the newspaper she had laid out across the table. On top of everything else, she needed to talk.

The sound of a book skidding from next to the reading chair and landing on the floor with a loud thud distracted her. Michaela twirled to the motion and found Katie crossing her arms back over her chest, her face squished into a whine. "I wanna go pway outthide." She announced, undeterred by her mother's frustrated glance as it moved from the toppled book to her.

"We can't go outside today, Katie."

"It'th not wainin'."

The heel of Michaela's shoe dug into the floorboard, a nervous gesture as she became all the more aware of the men swarming the property. How could she explain this situation without scaring her children even more?

"I know sweetheart, but it's not safe." As if on cue, a chubby finger shoot out to the window. Katie had been around Howard, she could see through his cool demeanor and had early on labels him "the scawy man," but these men were new. She hadn't been around them, only watched them from a distance. In fact, what she had seen of "the bwue men" came on her way to and from town with her ma. They never seemed too bad then.

"They're outthide."

What was she suppose to say, 'those are bad men and they're dangerous. We best not mess with them?' Michaela sighed, feeling her temper rise at being second-guessed by her two year old. "Katie sometime there are things that you need to trust me for. It's not good to be outside with all the blue men out there. Even Mommy isn't going." That, she thought, should be enough. Never mind the fact that she'd just tried to reason with a two year old who had missed her nap for the afternoon.

"Mmmnnnnooooooo." The whine started as a little moan and the sound itself grated over Michaela's raw nerves. "I wanna pway! I wanna pway!"

"Katie…" Michaela's warn was drowned out by a wail.

"Mommeeee! I wanna go outthide!" She hopped down from her chair and stomped across the floor, until she was standing directly beneath her ma, tears streaming down her cheeks, her face red and puckered.

"Katie," Michaela continued in a quiet voice, trying all self-control that she could maintain considering how her day had been, "it's time to stop."

The wailing stopped, but two arms crossed over her chest, "no," she spat out, a clear test, "no, no, no."

"I think you need to go sit in your chair." It was all Michaela said, and yet the words had the magic to cause Katie's face of defiance to fall. Fresh tears pooled at her eyes.

"Nnnnoooo." This time, her words weren't an act of defiance, but a whimper. When Michaela didn't say anything, she cried harder, hiccupping along the way. "Nnnooo, Mommeee!" A loud noise outside was followed by an eruption of laughter, pulling Michaela's attention from the situation. She took two steps backward and bent so that that she could see through one of the kitchen windows. She couldn't see a thing and Katie continued to cry at her feet. "Mommeee, Mommeee!"

"Katie, five minutes, go." She spoke firmly, knowing that as she turned for the kitchen, her daughter turned as well, begrudgingly for her little chair facing the far corner of the den.

Michaela crossed the kitchen to the window and lifted the drape so that she could see outside, but it only appeared to be something akin to a drunken brawl, clamoring in the orchard. Dejectedly, Michaela dropped the drape. The crowd outside laughed and Katie inside cried; Michaela stood in the middle of it all unable to stop either. She wandered past the stove, and, stopping at the foot of the stairs so that she could see Katie sitting obediently in place, she rested her arms on the end of the banister and lay her head over on the twist of her arms, watching the ticking of the clock, slowly counting the remaining three minutes of Katie's time out.

This was how Sully found them, Katie, her cries now simply soft whimpers, staring at a corner in the wall and Michaela with head in arms at the bottom of the stairs. The thud of the door sliding against the doorjamb broke Michaela from her thoughts and she straightened, turning toward him.

"Where were you?"

"It's good ta see ya too." Sully replied, limping, just slightly, over to the table and taking a seat.

"We've been home three hours. I didn't know where you were or what happened."

Sully took a breath. "I went out. Put out some traps. By the looks of things ya aren't gonna have much meat left come spring." Michaela paused, taking into consider Sully's body language, his posture. Something had happened earlier that morning, and he had no desire to tell her. She didn't have the energy to force him. Her voice lowered to a brief sigh.

"At least tell me your ok?" His eyes glanced up at her: he nodded briefly, and loose strand of hair falling from under his hat.

"What's this?" He asked, lifting the newspaper that was stretched before him. Michaela took a few steps closer, an arm sneaking up her shoulder. She glanced sideways at Katie and then over to the clock, one minute short. It didn't matter.

"Katie, darling," She turned to find the girl on her knees, eyes peering over the back of the wooden chair. "why don't you go up to your room and play? Would you like that?"

"uh huh." She slid from the chair with a bob of her head. As she passed to the stairs, her eyes cut to Sully sitting at the end of the table.

"Hey, Kates." He whispered, a crooked smile crossing his lips. The little girl blushed.

"I, um…" Michaela waited for Katie to get upstairs before she started speaking, "Dorothy brought that to me this morning." She stood quietly as Sully finished the article and lay the newspaper flat on the table. He pushed it out in front of him. Then, she took the seat next to him.

"Ya hear anything from Matthew today?"

"No, perhaps… tomorrow." She finished, staring at her fingers flattened across the tabletop.

Sully paused, glancing at all the windows he could see from where he sat, making sure they were truly alone before leaning over and hooking his fingers along the inside curve of her palm. "What's wrong?" He leaned forward so all he needed was a whisper. "Hm? What are ya thinkin'?"

"It's just…Sully." She forced herself to say his name, another solid reminder that he was truly with her. Her eyes lifted to his. "What happens after tomorrow, or the next day? What do we do next?"

"We start over. If the court finds me not guilty they can't hurt me."

"But do you really think it will be that easy? That you'll just come home and we'll all pick up where we left off?"

"Yea, I mean, I know that time's passed. Things 've changed, but your you and I'm me. We still got Brian and Katie. We have a home and you have your clinic. We can rebuild this. 'Chaela," He cupped her cheek in his hand, "we're not as lost as you think."

"And if they find you guilty? What do we do then? You can't stay here." His hand dropped from her face and he turned his head over his shoulder, thinking. She posed a good question.

"Then I think we'd have ta start over. If that's what ya want." His face turned back to hers and found a shocked look of disbelief in her eyes.

"Of course that's what I want. Sully, I want nothing more than for us all to be together." This time, it was she who leaned forward. His hand returned to her cheek; his thumb caressing the soft skin.

"Me too…. Then I think that the next question is where would ya like to live?"

Despite herself, despite the stressfulness of the situation, the dismal prospect of setting up another practice, or building a new home, or making new friends, Michaela wanted to laugh. She felt the smile curve her lips and the relief that flooded Sully's eyes. "I think I'd like to see Yellowstone now." She whispered, surprising even herself.

She saw Sully's smile and heard his soft chuckle, and suddenly he was leaning in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her eyes dropped shut to relish the feeling. The kiss, she never wanted to end, did and as Sully began to pull away, the front door opened.

They both shot back, voiding their physical contact as Brian stepped into the room. Whether they were in time or not, Michaela didn't know. Brian stopped in the doorway, his eyes scanning between the two of them.

"What's going on?" Searching for something, anything to tell him, Michaela's fingers curled around the newspaper and she held it up to him and watched as he read. He looked tired, she noted. His eyebrows twisted with tension, his shoulders hunched forward. He dropped his books on the side of the table absent mindedly.

When he had finished the article, he lay the newspaper on the table. "So does that mean that it's almost over?" He asked, the little boy appearing before her eyes as if he had just been hiding. She nodded, trying a little smile.

"Yes, it's almost over." He reached for his books and turned for the stairs. "Wait…" Michaela started, standing from her seat. "I haven't started dinner yet. If you'd tell me what you would like I'll see if I can't make it."

Brian paused on the bottom step, thinking and then with a shake of his head, he continued up the steps. "I ain't that hungry. Thanks."

* * *

So…. What did you think? I hope you liked it! There's still a little more to come!


	19. Blood and Dust

**Chapter 18**

**Blood and Dust**

"_But he saw them all lying in heaps amid blood and dust._ _They were like a great haul of fishes which the fisherman have drawn into a bay with a wide net, the lie on the sand panting for the salt water, while the blazing sun takes away their life."_

Michaela stood at the kitchen counter, hands folded, head bowed as if in silent prayer. In actuality, she was in thought. Ignoring the ingredient that she had spread out before her in a long line, her mind, instead was in the night before. The heavy silence that Brian brought home with him hadn't lifted. In fact, it had only gotten worse, as if everyone were afraid to move or make a sound for fear that the balance would be tipped. All of their nerves were frayed. After dinner, Michaela fell into a quiet discontent, her mind skipping back to Brian. Something was different, something was wrong and what it was she didn't know. Sully had grown quiet, watching her from the corner of the den, observing the way she sat in the wingback chair arms pressed firmly into arms rest. She stared into space, the harsh glow of the fire dancing across her tensed features. Even Katie seemed to know not to fuss.

"We have to tell him." She said, her eyes jutting to him, to be certain he understood her. Sully didn't speak; she hadn't expected him to. Her words were more for herself than for him, a statement, said out of confirmation that he was behind her conclusion. She moved to stand, scooped Katie up and took her to bed. She never came back down, but she didn't sleep either. Sully could feel every harsh turn she made in the bed.

Michaela's mind hadn't quieted the past eleven hours. She replayed Brian's conversation in her head, his looks, his movements. Had he seen her and Hawking sitting so closely? Did he feel perhaps that she was betraying Sully's memory? Or was the constant presence of the army beginning to wear on him? The answers to her questions didn't matter. He needed to know for him, for all of them. Whether it made things easier or more complicated, Brian needed to know Hawking's true identity- to give him a sense of hope and security.

"Ya still want ta tell 'em?" Sully asked, appearing in the doorway. He pressed his shoulder firmly into the doorframe.

The alien voice amid the quietness thrust her into motion. She automatically reached for an egg sitting before her. There were several seconds of deadness that seemed as though she may not even reply. Then came a sigh. "I think he needs this."

"Ya don't think it'll make him worry?"

"I don't think he'll have time." She dropped a shell to the side and turned to look at him, "he'll be finding out soon regardless of what we chose." Sully's lips pursed together, neither indicating his agreement nor disapproval. His eyes slid shut, longer than a blink but short enough to not be out of place in his measured movements. It was the closest she got to an affirmation.

Several heavy footsteps down the stairs announced Brian's presence and Michaela quickly turned back to the stove as if afraid to be seen talking to "Hawking." She stirred furiously at the yellow yolk, breaking them against the smooth surface of the clay bowl. Sully too shrank back from her presence. He moved to the other side of the kitchen, his hand lifting a curtain enough for him to peer outside. He said nothing and neither did Michaela. A stray squeal came from Katie in the back corner of the house as she bounded from her hiding place behind a bench and tackled Wolf who had been snoozing soundly in front of the fire. Brian's feet landed on the solid ground of the homestead floor.

"Good morning Brian," Michaela started, leaving her eggs laying unattended on the counter and moving into the den. Sully did not follow her; she was well aware of that as well as the agitation with which Brian moved.

The wind around the small homestead rose, pressing around the wooden structure, testing its foundation, its means of protection. The noise howled around the corner and the sky outside began to grow dim, casting everything inside the small home in a faded shade of grey.

"Mornin' ma."

"Did you sleep well?"

Brian nodded. He stood at the end of the table, pulling his folder from his haversack and flipping it open to expose the articles he had been writing for the Gazette. He sat.

Michaela stood back for a few minutes, staring perplexed at her son before lifting a gaze of anxiety to Sully who she could see just inside the kitchen. He was watching her as well. Her fingers fumbled together, twisting and turning the band of gold worn on her left hand, a nervous gesture. As if needing nothing more than a look, as if he understood the meaning of the ever-turning golden band, Sully came closer, walking out of the darkening kitchen, out of the shadows and into the light. Michaela took a deep breath and reached for the chair next to Brian.

"Brian, do you have a moment? There's something I would like to discuss with you." Two eyes looked up at her from under sandy locks. He pushed his paper away, a signal for her to take her seat.

Suddenly, a flash of lighting flickered across the room, lighting everything from the outside in. A few seconds later, it was accompanied by a crack of thunder, the first that made Michaela notice the shifting weather.

"Is it storming?" She asked aloud, turning away from the table and moving toward the elongated window that stood at the far end of the den.

"It looked like it was getting' ready when I came down." Brian answered, his attention now enveloped in his surroundings. ''

"Mommy…" Katie moaned from her seat on the floor, her face pinching in anticipation of the tears that would soon come.

"It's all right, sweetheart it's just the thunder, your safe inside." Michaela spoke over her shoulder as her hand lifted to the curtain. Another bolt of lightning struck just as the curtain rose. In a chance reaction, Michaela screamed, jumping back from the window. Staring at horror at what she saw until she had the time to process it. There, staring back at her was a face… the face of a soldier complete with blue kepi. His unkept hair and unshaven jaw pressed into the window, his eyes gleaming with mischief. The lighting illuminated behind him, making him glow in the darkening morning. He watched her reaction with a solid face of seriousness, which was soon replaced by a grotesque and wild smile, showing rows of black and rotting teeth.

Before Michaela had time to reaction both Brian and Sully was at her side. In an air of frustration and more likely than not, embarrassment, she reached up and swung the curtain closed, hiding the face behind it, but Brian still turned from her. He moved to the door.

"What are you doing?"

"I gotta say somethin'."

"What? No." Michaela commanded firmly enough to stop Brian's hand on the door handle. She felt the waves of panic build in her chest, her mind flashed through all the possible results Brian's confrontation. His hand dropped from the handle and turned back to her in desperation.

"I ain't gonna sit and let 'em do this anymore."

"Brian, leave them be. It's only a little longer. They're not hurting anybody."

"Not hurting anyone? They've been all over the place since they got here. I don't think there's anything left in the spring house and if they keep at it ya ain't gonna have much of a garden to work in come spring."

"Please Brian…"

"No Ma! This ain't fair. I shouldn't a let it happen. Sully wouldn't have. What am I suppose to do. Let 'em eat everything we got? Let 'em take the homestead away from ya?"

"I'd rather you do that than see you get hurt!" Both their voices had escalated to a yell, not at each other, but at themselves, at the fates, their circumstances. When all was said, tears glistened in each of their eyes. Their chest burned. Their fingers tingled. Sully stood back, watching the moment of pregnant silence come and go, as if it were a standoff. Finally, Brian's head dropped to the floor. His hands buried deep in his pockets and he turned from the door. He walked to the table, and the kept walking, around where he had been sitting, next to the stairs and out the side door.

The next movement, induced by the sound of the cracking door, was Michaela's half sprint, stopped midmotion by Sully.

"No, let me." He whispered firmly. "Let me." His eyes lowered to hers and then dropped to the floor as he moved around her.

Michaela was left alone in the hollow homestead, alone with Katie who still sat frozen to the floor, uncertain of what happened or what she should do. With stooped shoulders and a worried frown, Michaela turned to Katie, as if remembering her fear from earlier. The tears had not dissipated, and when the warm hazel of her mother's gaze feel on her, the worried girl burst with new tears, new worries.

"It's alright, darling." Michaela hummed. Cuddling the girl in her arms, pulling her close so she could feel the comforting thump of her steady heart. She returned to the kitchen. A brief glimpse out the window told her nothing. Brian and Sully had disappeared in the dusty morn. They vanished amidst the sea of blue uniforms.

Twenty minutes later the side door opened and closed. Michaela stood tensely, hovered over the iron cook stove, tending the eggs that were well on their way to burning. Her hand gripped tightly around the handle of the fork. She saw nothing; she heard everything.

Footsteps down the small hallway, slowing, turning, stopping. Brian appeared in the doorway, the red brim of unshed tears just now vanishing from his face. His clothes held the dampness of the first drops of rain. Michaela looked up at him, not sure what to expect or to say. Brian jutted forward, wrapping two arms around her as if she had thrown him a lifeline and he would forever be thanking her. The fork clattered to the floor as she moved to accept the embrace. He pressed his mouth closely to her ear and whispered, "I know."

Michaela's eyes opened and landed on Sully, standing back, watching contently. A soft smile spread across his lips. He was soaked through.

* * *

Michaela swayed on her feet, moving her hips back and forth, her skirt gliding over the wooden floor beams. She moved slowly, calmly as if she had all the time in the world because she did. Well, if felt like that at least. She felt herself relax into their new situation after the events of that morning. She had watched Brian relax for the first time in the past two days- for the first time in the past two years- and she watched as he no longer felt the responsibility of being the man of the house, trying to protect her and Katie. Brian had fallen back, content to watch Sully and follow his lead, and even Michaela felt that the casual smile and promise that they would all pull through took more solidness beneath her.

Soon after lunch, Sully had suggested that he would take a trip into town, to get more supplies from the store and check for any news from Denver. Brian had eagerly agreed to go with him, the excitement of old sparking in his eyes. Michaela was content to spend her afternoon rocking Katie to sleep. _Content,_ Michaela smiled at the word. For the first time in her life, she truly understood what it meant. She felt it coarse through her. Somehow, she had recaptured what it was she lost; she didn't realize how beautiful her life had been until now.

The heaviness of Katie's small head pressed against her chest, a soft sigh of finality escaping from her lips. The warm breath skimmed across the creak of Michaela's neck.

Craning her neck forward, Michaela examined the two eyes, sweetly closed, eye lashes fanned against perfect ivory skin. Michaela stooped over the little bed in the small bedroom where she stood and, supporting the little head, nestled the sleeping body into the warn tick. She pulled the covers up, tucking them around her beautiful daughter. In the span of seventy-two hours, life had taken on an entirely new meaning. Even the simplest task, as content putting Katie down for her afternoon nap, while comforting before, now was affirming. She hovered, mere inches over Katie, watching her sleep, her soft features void of any stress or tears. Perhaps she should take a nap as well. She felt like she could. Michaela placed a kiss to the side of Katie's head and stood.

The insistent and powerful pounding rattled the door downstairs, shaking the oval window in its frame. Michaela appeared on the steps, her brow knitting in confusion as she wiped her hands on her skirt. She crossed the room to the door and reached for the handle. Shelton Howard's face appeared in the crack of the door.

In one continuous motion, Michaela reversed the movement of the door, but the tip of a boot jutted in its path, stopping the motion. Fingers curled around the edge of the door as the face moved before her.

"Dr. Quinn, I've come for the house."

* * *

Loren looked up from the desk as the swing of the front door rang the bell. Brian's face appeared first the in the doorway, unusually bright.

"Hey Mr. Bray." He hummed through curled lips. Loren paused for a moment, taking the young man's face in before him. Something was different. Something had changed, what it was he couldn't tell. That is, until Sully appeared behind him in the doorway, a similar relaxed expression on his face.

Loren's eyes lifted to Sully's, and with a slight dip of his wide brimmed hat, Sully told him all he needed to know. His eyes returned to Brian who stood as expectantly before as if he were still eleven. "Hello Brian. How's Dr. Mike this mornin'?"

"She's good." He paused and threw a glance over his shoulder, "Sss… um… we were wonderin' if ya got any lamp oil."

Loren jutted the back end of his pencil to the corner of the room. "Try over there by the candles."

"Thanks," as Brian scurried off, Sully stepped further into the store, stationing himself at the edge of the counter.

"I ain't heard nothin' if that's what ya're gonna ask me." Loren grumbled with a shake of his head. Sully smiled though, Loren was obviously pleased by the scene he'd just witnessed, Brian once again his old self.

"That's ok. I ain't really expecting to hear anything this…" Sully's voice trailed off as his eyes squinted at something in the distance, out the door and across the other side of the street. Loren too, lifted his head following the younger man's gaze. It was Matthew, his sturdy legs making a fast pace across the street. Hank and Jake followed closely behind.

Matthew took the two steps leading to the porch of the mercantile as one, a smile growing as he inched closer, and closer to where Sully stood until they were standing across from each other with only Loren's presence between them.

"Whadda ya say 'bout goin' home?" He asked simply. Sully wasn't sure how to respond, or if he had even heard the words correctly. But Brian did; somehow, he magically appeared at Sully's side. His presence commanded Matthew's attention, his posture and relation to Sully telling his older brother that he knew all. Matthew simply smiled and reached out to pop his brother on the shoulder. Jake and Hank appeared behind him.

"Ya got news, Matthew?" Jake started first, walking around to fulfill the small circle of men that had grouped together.

"Some." He replied, not taking his smiling eyes of Sully.

"Don'cha think that ya might need ta share it with the rest of us?"

Matthew's eyes cut to Hank now, "Don't see why. It doesn't affect you much."

"And it affects that Hawkin' fella?" Sully stifled a smile at the pointed comment.

"Yep, came ta tell him that the trial is over. Verdict's not guilty. He can go home now."

Time stopped for Sully. He couldn't hear anything, feel anything. He could only see. The past two weeks flooded to him and around him like a dream, over, gone, forgotten. With those few words, it had ended and a new beginning had taken root, one that promised everything to them. It was limitless.

Slowly all of his senses returned to him. First sound, Brian's cry of excitement cracked through his daze as the boy threw his arms around his brother. Then he began to feel the solidness of the ground under his feet, the roughness of the counter under his hand, the sting of a smile that stretched too far. His breath returned and he heard the sound of his own chuckling.

Matthew, arms still wrapped tightly around Brian, cut his eyes to Jake and Hank that stood clueless. He smiled at the irony, "Gentlemen, I would like ta introduce ya to someone." His attention turned back to Sully, who was already reaching for the brim of his hat.

* * *

Howard thrust the door open with a shove, knocking Michaela backwards, leaving her stumbling to catch her balance. "The order came in this morning. The verdict has been found guilty. I am here to confiscate all of your property, every building, every bed, every tea cup."

Michaela was thrown off guard in more ways than one. She felt her heart beat in her chest sending a tingling sensation through her arms and down her fingertips. The floor fell out from underneath her and she couldn't understand what she was being told. _Guilty?_ It couldn't be. It was impossible. Even with the reality that Sully could have been found guilty, even thinking it was probable, she didn't believe it would be so. This wasn't real, it was a dream. She had to be napping. Her mouth went dry and she struggled to find words.

"I… Please show me the orders."

"Excuse me?"

"I wish to see the telegram."

Howard lurched forward, grabbing her under the arm and pulling her to him. It was then, that she knew it couldn't be a dream. The pain shooting through her arms was too real. "Let g…."

"This is not a joke, Dr. Quinn…" Howard seethed through his front teeth and then added, "Michaela." He turned her name over on his tongue as if it tasted like chocolate, something that he wanted more of. "I have come for the homestead, _everything, _just as I told you I would." He took a deep breath, drawing his mouth down next to her ear. "This is your last chance. You want to save your family, your home? Give yourself to _me._"

Michaela squirmed in his grasp, thrusting this way and that before finally colliding against his chest, knocking him off center with her fist in his chest. "Never!" She grunted, running toward the door.

Every man she had seen on the property and then some stood in front of the homestead now forming a line straight out the front door. They each stared at her with contemptuous looks as if expecting, knowing ahead of time what Howard had been planning, and eager that they play their part as well. Some wore their jackets, decked completely in army regalia while others were in their shirtsleeves despite the chill in the air. Some seemed to have been unshaven for days; others were caked with dust and dirt. The man she had seen that morning, in the window was one of the closest to the porch; he wore the same smile, mocking, grotesque. At the back of the group, four men were lighting torches while others stood already with their hands on the fence that surrounded the property.

Michaela paused for a moment almost paralyzed by the sight of it all, but she forced herself into movement. She flew through the center of the men, feeling the tugs at her skirt and shirtsleeves. She flung open the gate and ran into the barnyard passed the men with torches and into the barn.

Faintly, she could hear shouting and movement, but her eyes were trained on her mission, her heart pounding in her chest, not knowing what steps to take next, how to get away. It would be another hour before she could even expect to see Brian and Sully back.

The wagon took Brian and Sully into town that morning, and with it Mags and Taffy. Michaela stood at Flash's stall, hands fumbling through the ropes, unhinging the door, sending her flying out through the doors. She grabbed everything within reach before feeling the rough hands grab her from behind. She struggled.

She wasn't any match for the unnamed man, though. He simply alternated between dragging her and picking her up around the waist. He pulled her from the barn, and through the fence, which was rapidly disassembling before her eyes. And then, with a final heave, he toppled her over his shoulder. Michaela landed on the ground, hard, at Howard's feet. Her left hip ached and her breath strained. Then she heard the order.

"Burn!"

The four torches arched skillfully in the air, landing at the center of the roof. The white oak erupted into flames of red and orange and blue.

* * *

"Once Finnegan gave his testimony there whaten much anyone could say. The verdict came back not guilty." Matthew finished the last of his explanation with a subtle smile having enthralled Hank, Jake, and Loren all in his tale. Sully on the other hand simply stood back, the proud smile of a father stretching his face.

Hank cut his eyes over to Sully. "I don't know how ya pulled it off, waltzin' in here without anybody knowin' who ya are."

"It ain't that hard if ya ain't lookin' for me, Hank."

Jake to smiled secretively, "What's Dr. Mike gonna say when she finds out who ya are?"

"She already knows." Hank and Jake fell silent, realizing just how in the dark about everything they were. They stared at each other blankly as Sully turned back to Matthew.

"So what does this mean now? Can I just go home?"

"You can walk right up the front door. They can't try you for treason again."

Brian's shoulders relaxed into a slouch and a lock of blond hair dipped in front of his eyes. He sighed a chuckle. "That means the army's gotta leave us alone now."

"Oh," Loren whistled, "Howard ain't gonna like that." He tapped the back of his pencil on the package he had been unloading before the interruption. Inside was a tiny black velvet ring box.

Everyone seemed to speak with lightness about the future, about how sweet the irony would be. Everyone, that is except Sully. At Brian's mention of the army, the cloud once again returned to his face, his mouth setting in a stern hold as he shifted his eyes out the window. He turned sideways and slide between Jake and Matthew, walking to the door of the store and standing quietly for a few moments before turning back.

"Has anyone seen Howard this mornin'?" The five men stared back at him blankly, thinking, until finally Jake answered.

"Yea, I think I saw 'em leavin' the train station."

Sully turned fully to him now, interested in everything he had to say. "What did he look like?"

"Whadda ya mean? He looked like he always looks. Donkey walkin' upright."

"Did he look mad or worried? Did he carry anything in his hand?" Jake's eyes faded for a moment as he conjured a scene that appeared for his vision only.

"Come ta think of it, I think he was carrying a telegram. He had it waded up in his hand, though. Didn't look to happy 'bout it."

By now, Matthew had caught on to the situation and he jerked up from the counter. "Ya think he's already got the news." Sully's eyes shifted to him, a slight nod.

"What's he capable of?"

"I don't know." Sully's heart slowed in his chest, his motions feeling as though he were traveling through molasses. He turned on his heels and walked out into the sun. It was the first time he had seen Colorado Springs as himself in two years.

* * *

Michaela lay on the ground, a searing pain running through her body, matching the growing flames as they shot through the center of the barn. She was speechless, paralyzed. Her mind scanned wildly over the last minutes, finding no solution in her wake. She felt the pressure of her back press into the top of Howard's boot as she struggled to roll herself to her feet, diverting her eyes from the destruction of the familiar structure now sinking to the earth in a pile of charcoaled wood.

Howard stood above her, watching the destruction. His arms crossed tightly in front of his chest, as he watched the scene, pleasure and the thrill of power well written over his face. His head nodded in rhythm that only he could hear. Then, he lifted his left hand, making a slow motion with his fingers, flicking them forward, signaling the last man standing with a torch on the outskirts of the fire. The man nodded and hurled the torch to the center of the structure. The new flame seemed to melt the ice that froze Michaela to the ground. In a swift, flailing motion, legs and skirts jutting out at odd angles, she rolled to her feet and ran back to the homestead.

The door slammed shut behind her and she pressed her back firmly against the wood, staying it with her weight while she thought. She could feel her heart pounding, blood surging through her veins. Her breath came in little spurts as she glanced around the room, trying to complete a thought. The thoughts clicked into place as she turned to the mantle and the rifle that hung over the fireplace.

She left the security of the door and reached the rifle as the crash of the wood flinging open reached her. She pulled up and out, lifting the rifle off its pegs freeing it and turning in a single sweeping motion. She turned the barrel and hit Howard directly in the chest. The wide turn of her motion had barely stopped when Howard wrapped his arm around the barrel, reversion the action and sending her skidding to the floor. He tossed the rifle to the side.

"It only takes one word." He said, taking a step closer to her. She struggled to keep the distance between them, even as the room began to fill with dozens of expectant men in blue uniforms. "One word, _stop._ Go ahead, tell me to stop."

Finally Michaela struggled to her feet and drew herself as tall as she could, "never," she spat, flinging it to the floor at his feet. He paused, staring at her as if she were out of her mind, as though he couldn't understand her. He waited for her to change her mind. She didn't. Howard turned on his heels and faced the array of men who had lines themselves behind him.

The first sound Michaela was aware of was the shattering of glass as a reading table was pitched through the front window. She stood, rooted to the ground as the men dissolved from their attentive states before her very eyes in a mass of movement and chaos. The large wingback chairs were toppled over to their front, the sound of fabric ripping as the cushions were dismantled, feathers going in all directions. A clean sweep of the mantle sent everything crashing to the floor, a vase shattering on contact. Pots clanked in the kitchen.

A soldier walking toward her sent Michaela backing up toward the brick divider. The sharp angles of the bricks biting into her shoulders. The soldier's face was red and fierce; his eyes were sunken. He paused in front of her, with the table their only means of a divider and then, with a swift motion, he clutched the edges of the dining table and flipped it in her direction. Michaela screamed.

It took her breath away, the sheer movement of it all. She felt utterly helpless, but as she saw her home, the things that she loved, the memories she had built for her family and herself disassemble before her eyes, she felt a surge of anger and courage.

"You can't do this!" She spat, closing the distance between her and Howard with wide footsteps. His arms hadn't left his chest; his eyes cut down to her.

"Oh, I assure you Dr. Quinn. I can. I am."

"This is against my rights!"

Howard laughed. It was a cold laughter and it frightened Michaela. "My darling out here, there are no such thing."

"You must stop this!"

"And who will make me? You? There's only one thing that will stop this… I'm waiting for the words." Michaela faltered before his eyes, bringing him even more enjoyment. She turned her head surveying all the damage, the caravan of furniture being carried out the front door and tossed into a growing pile in the front yard. Two soldiers lifted a wingback chair between them and started the journey outside. With a glance thrown back at Howard, Michaela ran to them, her hands pressing against one of the soldier's back.

"Stop this, put it down please." The soldier facing her laughed and swung his body to the side suddenly, bumping her out of the way. Michaela stood at the center of room, alone, unmoving while the world around her was being dismantled. A sharp screech came from the stairs.

Michaela looked up to find Katie standing midway down the stairs, arms wrapped tightly around the railing, mouth wide open, face red, and tears running down her cheeks. Michaela shoved her way through the mass of men and destruction to get to her, finding in her daughter a purpose for moving.

"Katie, Katie…"

"AH…Maah….mahh!" She screeched in horror.

"It's alright, it's going to be all right. Come down here. Come to Mama." Michaela lifted her hands up through the railing. "That's it, just swing your leg over, and duck your head." Katie managed to follow the most basic of instructions sticking her arm and head through the wooden beams enough for Michaela to grasp her, pulling her down and folding the child in her arms. "It's all right…" She hummed, tucking the small head into the curve of her neck and pressing it firmly in place with her hand. Hot tears rolled down the chubby little cheeks and lost themselves in the collar of Michaela's shirt. A small hand clutched tightly at her blouse. Her breath came in erratic spurts and Michaela could feel the round tummy jarring against her chest. She spun to Howard who had followed her, a new kind of anger building in blood.

"How dare you! How dare you come into my home, dishonor the memory of my husband, and frighten my children!" She yelled at him as loud as she could, and yet she couldn't hear her own words for the pounding of her heart in her ears.

"You mean the seed of that traitor who caused the death of those men out of the hill as well as his own? Willfully, knowingly that his actions would end the way they did? What kind of man is that to honor, the man who trades his child for the freedom of people who don't even deserve to be free."

Michaela's hand cracked across the taunt face before her. She hadn't thought about it, she had simply acted. At the end, even as the ache still radiated in her palm she stared wide-eyed back to him, knowing her actions would have a consequence and yet feeling pride in the look of refocusing anger before her. His words weren't true, she knew they weren't, but he had been searching for her breaking point. He had found it.

Suddenly, Howard grasped her, his fingers tightening around the tops of her arms pulling her toward him, not asking, not gentle. He captured her lips in his, his arms wrapping further around her body, and despite how she struggled his grip got tighter. Katie, trapped between the two adult screamed again, partly out of fear and discomfort. The pressure of Howard's lips on Michaela's was revolting and yet she was pulled tighter. Then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. With a swift thrust, Howard threw her backward.

Instinctively Michaela's shoulders rolled in, her arms moving to surround Katie as she felt her weight topple from the certainty of her feet. She stumbled backwards, closer to the stairway, closer to the floor. But instead of hitting the hard wood, of falling flat on her back, two arms reached out, catching her around her waist and setting her to her feet. Shocked, but secure, Michaela stood stunned, everything around her moving too fast. The arms retreated, and the unnamed man stepped around her. She saw the back of Sully's form closing in on Howard.

* * *

The Wingback chair heaved through the air, landing on the top of the pile while men stared on. A voice grumbled from the perimeter.

"Step back." Hank appeared from the side of the house, rifle leveled on at one of the men. The three standing behind him instantly reached for their side arms as Matthew appeared from the far side of the burning barn. "Ain't any use in tryin' we're everywhere."

It was true, as Hank spoke, realization filtered through the homestead as a soldier stopped in the doorway to return inside. He shut the door firmly behind him.

* * *

Inside the homestead, Michaela missed the scurry of men spreading to each of the windows of the homestead only to find someone on the other side of each of them. She was too busy watching the form of Sully's back standing firmly in place facing Howard who stared emotionlessly back.

"It ain't any use Howard; we've got the house surrounded. Why don't ya go ahead an' tell your boys to come outside." Michaela could hear Matthew's voice bellow from outside.

It was like time suspended. There was no movement in the homestead and no sound. Each man shifted their eyes from one to the other, only their eyes. Their hands gripped at their side holsters as they bent over the windowsills, straining to see who could look back at them. The slightest amount of nervousness began to bead across their foreheads, but Howard said nothing. Instead, he stared back at Sully.

"I think ya need ta listen to him." Sully whispered lowly, trying to control his anger if not for Howard, for Michaela who he knew was standing behind him. But Sully watched as the curl of a smile gently tugged at Howard's mouth.

"Gentlemen, dispose of your enem…" Before Howard's words were finished, the homestead dissolved into a myriad of movement. First, Sully lunged at Howard, grabbing him by the lapel before he was even finished, sending Michaela, Katie still curled on her shoulder, in a grab for him. _Not here, not now_. It wasn't worth it to see him hurt again. It was all over. As Michaela made for her grab the answer to Howard's command, a sharp crackle of fire blasting through the front window, propelled her in the other direction. She hit the wall, sliding into the alcove under the stairs as Katie screamed in her arms. She curled around the tiny body that squirmed every which a way trying to extract herself from the safe grip in the name of fear. The world exploded around them. The sharp call and response of gunfire was deafening.

Sully received a sharp blow to the chin, knocking him off his feet and plunging him to the floor. He hit the side of the kitchen table on his way down. He instantly found two knees buried deeply in his chest. He couldn't breathe.

"How do you like that?" Howard heaved breathlessly. Sully grabbed Howard around the knees and flipped him over, spinning the other direction to reclaim his footing. He resumed his stance though, even as a stray bullet ripped through the back of the kitchen. This time it was Howard who charged, throwing Sully into the back of the stove, up and onto the cook top, but this time, Sully was prepared. He wrapped his legs around Howard's waist and crooked an arm around his neck so that Howard was in a forced bend at his side. A sharp elbow brought Howard to his knees, quickly enough for him to land on top pressing the smooth face into the rough floors. The ball of his hand pressed Howard into the floor and Sully bent over so that he whispered directly in Howard's ear. "Call 'em off."

"No…"

His palm dug deeper into Howard's neck, "Call 'em off, Howard. Ya got nothin' ta gain here. It's over." Sully's breath came in heaving spurts, his mouth dropped, a trickle of blood trailing from his nose.

"Alright." The whisper called, another shove, "ok, ok. Cease Fire!" The voice called, and just as it began, the gunfire stopped.

As Michaela found the courage to come out of her alcove all the doors burst open, flooding the homestead with familiar faces. Matthew, Hank, and Jake filtered in through the front door while Brian appeared at Michaela's side. Loren moved passed them as well as a few others.

Michaela handed a still muffling Katie to Brian as she pushed through to the kitchen just as Matthew entered on the other side. Sully jerked Howard up by the shirt collar, shoving him in Matthew's direction.

"I'm taken' 'em all to spend the night in jail til the Marshal can get here in the mornin'." He spoke to Sully, flipping cuffs onto Howard's wrist. . Behind him, men were being lined through the front door.

Sully didn't say anything, but looked around the room. His eyes landed on Michaela, standing broadly, shocked in the doorway. She watched patiently as the scene unfurled before her. Seeing her there, amid her tattered kitchen, Sully felt new anger burn in his chest. He turned back to Howard before he left the room, and grabbed him around the collar, leaning in. His hissed… "If you ever so much look at my family again. If ever think of my wife or my children, I will find you, an' I'll kill ya."

* * *

_There you have it guys!! It's the big chapter. We only have two more which should be posted together next weekend and then we'll be done. I hope you enjoyed the chapter!_


	20. Secrets

**Chapter 19**

**Secrets**

_~My boy, my heart is numbed. I cannot speak to him, or ask questions or look into his face. If he is indeed Odysseus and this is his house, we shall know each other well enough: there are secrets that we two know and no one else."~_

The homestead was quiet and calm, a foreign feeling for Michaela, but one she knew she could grow rather used to. The sun had long set, casting the world around them into pitch-blackness, asking the mangled homestead to be lit by lamp and candle. Distant dots of flames scattered across the rooms. Everything seemed to have a golden hue, a glint of radiance.

Michaela crept down the hallway, careful not to disturb either of her children who were lost each in their own worlds. She reached the top of the stairs, hand holding firmly to the banister, a solid, rough reminder that all was reality, and took one-step at a time.

"_But he lied, Ma."_ Matthew's words from hours before radiated in her mind. _"Sully's free, he's innocent."_ Michaela felt her knees weaken and Sully wrapped an arm around her waist, a smile gleaming across his face.

Michaela felt the downward motion of each step she took and relished it. It all seemed like a dream, as if she would wake any second, but the firmness of the wood pressing against the soles of her feet promised her that it wasn't a dream. That and the view as she turned the landing and looked down onto the den. The debris from earlier had been swept aside, the shards of broken glass and wood removed after a few hours of cleaning and all of the salvageable furniture pushed to the corner. Sully and Matthew had fastened blankets to the broken windows so that they would keep until the morning, and Grace brought them dinner while they worked, but now everything was finished for the night. Matthew had gone home and they had managed to make semi comfortable surroundings, something that resembled their home.

At the bottom of the stairs, Michaela turned into the kitchen, pausing at the doorway. The tin washtub that sat to the corner of the room still had steam rising from the cooling water, small spurts of bubbles collected around the tin walls. Sully stood next to the warming fireplace, leaning toward a mirror he had fastened to the side of the mantle, shaving the last of the thickened whiskers from his chin. The glow from the fire cast across his body, turning the browning skin of his chest and arms into a warm gold. A towel, fastened loosely around his waist was his only means of clothing.

Michaela waited as he made the final stroke with the straight razor, carefully gliding the blade over the back hinge of his jaw, his hand following close behind. A signal of completion, Sully reached for the towel lying in front of him, wiping his hands off. As if knowing she was standing there all along, he tilted his head just enough in order to see her, acknowledging her thoughts and promising that they were true. He straightened his head again in order to wipe the last of the soap reside from his cheeks, giving Michaela ample time to appear at his side.

"I brought you something." She whispered, holding up the folded cloth on her open hands.

Finished with his face, Sully turned toward her, his hands hovering over the material once he realized what it was. Nicely folded in her hands lay a pair of his old buckskins and his blue and white striped shirt. "I believe these are yours." She smiled. Sully's hands now moved to lay flat of the striped fabric and pulled if from her hands. He slid his arms into it and glided it up and over his bruised shoulders. He winced slightly at the motion. Michaela too, registered the pain with the broad motions of his body. His hands moved to fumble with the buttons, but stopped. He tilted his gaze up at her so he could see her through his lashes, a boyish grin lighting the years from his face. "Would you do the buttons?"

Michaela felt her heart stop in her chest, the way it used to when they had just started courting, mixing her fear and excitement at the act of touching him. She hadn't touched him, not truly, since that night in the barn. Shifting the buckskins under her arm, her nimble fingers ran the course of his shirt, pausing over his chest once the job was complete. She could feel the warmth of his body radiate under her hand. Every muscle in her body tensed, not wanting to release. Her eyes lifted to his and only then was she aware that her lips were parted, breathing heavier than normal. She shut her mouth and swallowed.

Michaela lifted the buckskins up to him, "I have someone I want you to meet." She whispered.

* * *

Michaela was aware as she climbed each step, in awe of the transformation of the man who had been able to fool them all, into her husband, unmistakingly so. She heard the heaviness of his footsteps behind her as she led the way down the hallway pausing at the door to give him a little signal. _Wait here._ He did.

Sully watched at the doorway as Michaela stepped inside. Katie was curled on the edge of her bed, playing with her dolls; she looked up to her ma who bent over her, Michaela's long coppery hair, falling over her shoulder. Katie absentmindedly reached out and stroked at the strands.

"I have a surprise for you." Little eyes lifted excitedly.

"For me?"

"uh-huh." Michaela held out her arms and Katie willfully fell into them, allowing herself to be carried out of her room.

Sully found himself standing in front of the two most important women in his life, and for the first time since he'd been back in Colorado Springs, he felt nervous. His heart pounded tightly in his chest.

"Katie…" Michaela started, commanding her daughter's attention. "I want you to meet someone very special." Her hand thoughtlessly reached forward to Sully's chest, stroking down the front of his shirt. Katie turned her eyes to the man before her, clean-shaven, wearing buckskins and a blouse, his long hair hanging around his shoulders.

"Is, Mizer 'Awkin." She stated simply, causing Michaela to laugh. Sully had fooled them all, except Katie.

"Katie" Michaela tried to start again, "This is Papa." The instant the words were out, Katie's face shifted to something unnamed. She glanced at Sully, to Michaela and back to Sully. "But you say Papa in Heaven."

"I know I did, but I was wrong. He gets to be here with us."

Blue eyes turned back to Sully, thinking, calculating. Michaela held her breath, waiting to see Katie's next move. Sully seemed to be entranced in his daughter's gaze, his eyes not shifting from hers. Then, suddenly, Katie threw herself into a lean toward Sully, arms reaching for his neck. "You wead me my thtory?" Sully laughed, the swell of his throat bobbing with his smile.

"Sure." Michaela stepped back out of the way, watching father and daughter equally entranced in one another turn toward the little bedroom. Sully stopped by a small bookcase at the end of her bed and, guided by Katie's orders, picked up a book, and then sat them in the old rocking chair nestling Katie close to his body. Michaela reached for the door handle and pulled it to. It was a time for privacy.

* * *

Michaela busied herself with securing the house, trying to keep her mind from wondering what story Katie was telling now. Her efforts were fruitless, though; her mind did wander, and she found peace knowing that she could dream about these things as they were happening, not as she wished they could be. She travelled the stairs once more turning for Katie's room and the still cracked door. Before she got to the end of the hallway, though, she passed by Brian's room, the door shut tightly. She paused and lifted a knuckle to tap on the wood.

"Come in."

The door cracked and Michaela stuck her head in. "Are you getting ready to go to bed." She watched as Brian rolled over from where he had been laying on his stomach at the foot of the bed, shutting his book as he did so.

"Yea, it's getting late." His words weren't final, in fact, they were expectant, inviting his ma into the room instead of pushing her out. The door opened, further.

"Today was a rough day."

"Yea,"

"With Howard and everything…." Her voice trailed off as she moved to sit on the edge of his bed, turning to him directly. "Are you ok?"

Brian shrugged; he was silent another minute before speaking. "I just wish ya would a told me." Michaela nodded.

"I understand that, and perhaps we should have. It was my fault. When I first found out, I was so scared that someone would figure something out… I just suppose I didn't know what to do next. Keeping things the way they were seemed best. I suppose that was because it was the easiest."

"Ya know I wouldn a told nobody." Michaela turned to Brian and smiled, reaching out she cupped his face in her hands and planted a kiss to his forehead.

"I know. I forgive me?"

A smile, "yea."

"Ok," there was a moment of silence before Michaela moved, standing from the bed. "I suppose I should let you get to bed." She moved to the door as Brian pulled back the sheets and climbed in.

"Hey ma." He called after her just as the door was about to shut. She poked her head by in the door. "I'm glad he's home. Everything can go back to normal now." Michaela smiled.

Michaela could still hear the quiet methodical whispers emitting from Katie's room, and turned to her bedroom. The filth and sweat of hard work and smoke from the barn fire reeked in her clothing. She was slowly aware that she felt filthy, and the reflection in the mirror was none too kind. Her hair had pulled from the braid, frizzing around her face. Her blouse sagged in one direction, and dirt smudged the front of her skirt. Her fingernails were dark with soot caking her cuticles. Weariness lessened the opening of her eyes. She thought about Sully's bathwater down stairs, mentally calculating how long it would take to heat more water, but quickly dismissed the idea. She was too tired, the skin down the left side of her body aching with the strain of the day. She had bruises; she could feel them when she moved. Stepping over to the corner of the room, she poured a pitcher of fresh water into the basin, dipping her hands into the cold liquid and watching, as it turned milky with dirt, she splashed some on her face before moving to unbutton her blouse.

Her movements were methodical, her hands belong to a doctor, caring for the strained skin, cleaning the dirt away, but the more dirt that washed away, the more she could see the ivory skin that peered from underneath the dust and grime, the more she felt like herself, not a doctor but a woman.

_Sully._ Her mouth went dry. She could feel him close to her, remembering his warmth in the kitchen, the sight of his smooth face, his long hair. She knew instinctively the gentle motion of his arms as he pulled Katie form her, cradling her in his strong hands, protecting. The cool water ran down her skin but she felt nothing but warm. The fact that they hadn't truly kissed, or touched was now concrete. His death was over, now came life. She reached for her brush, pulling her hair through the coarse bristles, smoothing it into a nice silky sheen.

When all was said and done, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She recognized herself, from her shimmering hair to her glowing skin, the rosy hue in her cheeks. She recognized herself in a way that she hadn't for two years. There were so many things they needed to talk about, what happened on the mountain, Howard, the deception. Now that all was said and done, she was feeling new, things, stronger. She needed to talk, but talking was for a new day, the first day of the beginning, not the last day of the end. Michaela dabbed two drops of perfume under the hinge on each side of her jaw. She then reached for her robe, feeling it slip over her shoulders and knotting it at her waist. She had enough time to light a fire and to move her soiled clothes to the edge of the room when she heard the door open behind her. Two slow steps entered the room and the door clicked shut. The movements were heavy.

Michaela turned to find she what she expected, she saw Sully motionless by the door, his hand still wrapped around the knob. His eyes were taunt, sad, a crystal boarder lining the bottom of his eyelids. His lips disappeared into his mouth as he chewed on the skin, trying to control everything that coursed through his body.

Katie had fallen asleep in his arms halfway through their story. Her smile still stretched across her lips, her hands grasping his sleeve. He'd sat for the longest time, rocking her, watching her. He tried to remember her laugh, her funny stories, her smile, but her emotionless face gave no hint of these things. And suddenly Sully realized that he didn't know the child he held in his arms. He'd been able to pretend over the past two days that he knew enough to walk back into her life. He had watched her from afar and played with her before dinner, but that wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for any of them, for Katie or Brian or Michaela. Michaela turned form her place in the corner and his mouth went dry. He felt the strength he had been carrying on his shoulder drop to the floor. He needed to feel that not all was lost.

Michaela said nothing, but instead gravitated toward him, as if the hurt that radiated in his eyes pulled her to him, urging her to comfort him. He stepped into her, a hand lifting to the edge of her face, hovering, not touching, but feeling the warmth emitted from her body. He felt the soft baby hairs around her ears prickle against his skin. His eyes scanned the lines of her face, for the first time, really seeing her as she did to him in the barn. He scanned her forehead and the small indent of wrinkled, the curve of her nose, the high bones of her cheek. His hand lowered to the curve of her neck, still not touching, and down the length of her body.

Michaela's eyes watched him intently, feeling his movement, his hands brushing across the fine hairs across her cheek and neck. As his fingers followed the curve of the fabric crossed over her chest, her eyes dropped shut feeling his heat.

Sully leaned forward, almost touching her cheek with his, his left hand smoothing softly down the mane of hair, conforming to the curve of her back. He took a deep breath and released, smelling the aroma of her perfume. He sighed. "How did I forget the way you smell?" Michaela closed the distance between them a little more, but still left space. His fingers threaded through her hair at the temples, combing through the soft strains.

Her smell, her face, her hair, somehow he had forgotten. Her memory had become faded in his mind and he never realized that he'd forgotten, but he had. He had lived the past two weeks as he worked, for his family safety, not taking the time to feel for himself, but now everything hit him at once. He couldn't' breath as it all settled on his chest.

He felt her presence so close and reveled the security, not wanting to take more, but feeling his own desires grow by the minutes. Finally, he let his fingers gently touch the top of her arm, feeling the smoothness of the fabric of her robe, the other hand reached for her belt. The material was released with a sigh, pulling away from her shoulders and dropping to the floor. Sully's body groaned at her beauty, her sheer perfection.

Michaela's breath came in gasping spurts, her breasts brushing against the fabric of his shirt. She could read everything in his eyes, his need for rest and his inability to stop and take it. Struggling to find her voice, she whispered his name. It was the only thing said between the two of them, and yet it was his undoing. As he heard her words break the silence, the gap between them closed, firm arms pressed her to him, lifting her nearly off her feet as a harsh mouth captured her lips in a bruising kiss. Their movements were strong and thick, as if they moved through molasses trying to find their way. Michaela bent backwards over the strong arm thrust into her back. Her arms reach up and around, hugging the muscular torso to her, feeling his body through the thin layer of his shirt. Her arms cradled around his head as his frantic kisses left her mouth, trailing down her jaw and then her neck stopping at her collarbone.

"How could I forget the way ya smelled?" He gasped, pulling her to him, crushing her against his body.

"Things fade with time." She breathed huskily, searching for his mouth, nuzzling the side of his head.

"Nnnot this." He pressed into his words like a groan spitting them out as if saying them were painful. "Never this." He turned to her, his mouth finding hers in the flickering light of the fire.

Breaths heaved and growled, harsh hands rough across already sensitive skin. There was no time to stop, to slow down, to feel every second of what was culminating between them. The pressure to two years of cold beds and lonely dreams built around them, leaving no room for air or thoughts, just motion. Michaela's hands grouped for the edge of his shirt, tugging it over his head, throwing it behind them all the while feeling her own body dragged toward the bed.

Sully felt her kisses on his face, fast and fluttering, never staying to long. Her arms hugged the mass of his shoulders, nails digging into his back. There was pleasure in the pain, a grounding that brought him to the present. _Not a dream_, his mind chanted and yet he still couldn't believe it. While usually their love was slow and indulgent, their union held urgency as if they each were trying to fill enough to live a lifetime. Sully's hands were frantic, running across the soft yet muscular curves of her body, pulling her closer, as if by some chance they could actually unit into one body, and she clutched to him as if they were both drowning in the merciless waves that battered them against reality. Her body tensed and contorted as the intensity swept over her, leaving her breathless. Sully held her close and suddenly with the constriction of his arms around her shoulders, they both relaxed.

The room was filled with the sound of their heaving breath. Neither moved, neither had the energy. Sully lay, balanced on his elbow, his head dropped, and Michaela's eyes were shut, both trying beyond hope to calm their aching lungs. After a second, her eyes fluttered open once more, and were filled with the crystal blueness of his gaze. His brow was knit, eyes pleading. His mouth was stretched in a contortion of pain, but not physical pain. He felt a thousand knives stabbing his soul for everything he had put her through.

Wordlessly, Michaela raised her arm and threaded her fingers through his hair. Gently, she tugged him down toward her chest. He found his footing there, lying between her legs, his head pressed firmly against her heart. Her hand moved across his scalp, threading through his hair, sending a tingling sensation to his toes. When the journey was complete, her hand came to rest across his eyes, acknowledging the tears that could not flow. His hand moved to cover hers, pressing her touch closer to him.

Just as Michaela sought in his arms a shelter in the barn, Sully found safety in her embrace now. Her palm lay flat against his back feeling his throbbing gasps. He felt her shift above him and her smooth lips brush through his hair. She held him, quietly, patiently for what seemed like an eternity before he rolled to the side.

Sully brushed away a strand of hair that stuck to the side of her neck, his eyes scanning her face. "I ached for ya every night." He whispered thickly, and then added, "I'm so sorry."

Michaela didn't reply; Sully wasn't certain if he expected her to or not. He knew that somehow, the knot in his chest could only be dissipated by her, by her words, her forgiveness, but he didn't want it now, so soon. He did however recognized the pained smile that tugged one side of her mouth. Promising that she would not make him wait long. An arm reached out, across his chest, resting over his heart. Michaela moved closer to her body, her head tucking into the hollow of his neck. They fell asleep.

* * *

Michaela woke with a jar. She had been having the most wonderful dream about her and Sully. She'd dreamt that they'd taken Katie out to the creek. Sully was trying to teach her to fish, but all she was interested in was playing in the water. Michaela smiled at the thought and reached out to feel the warm body next to her, but all she found was cold sheets. Her eyes popped open and she lifted her head off the pillow, realizing that she had been woken by the shudder of her body in the chilled air. Sully wasn't next to her.

Michaela sat straight up in bed, immediately taking a scan of the room. He wasn't anywhere. Even his clothes were missing from the floor. She clutched the flimsy quilt to her chest and stared, paralyzed at the floor. He wasn't there. Had she dreamt it? Was he not really there? He'd never really come back. She couldn't breathe. Just as she moved to throw a leg over the edge of the bed, the door swung open and Sully emerged fully dressed. He moved to shut the door behind him quietly and paused as he turned to her, realizing that she was awake. Michaela took a deep breath, clasping her hand over her mouth, struggling to keep the tears back, but still her brow tensed under the effort.

"What's wrong?" Sully was instantly at her side, his hand grasping her shoulder.

She shook her head frantically trying to speak. "I thought you were a dream. I thought…" She choked on her words again.

Sully's face fell sheepishly as he admitted. "I wanted ta see Katie again."

"No, of course." She sighed embarrassed at her own imagination. Sully's head tilted in her direction and he considered her fully before asking her, "when was the last time ya slept through the night." Michaela shrugged, shaking her head. She couldn't remember.

Sully stood, pulling his shirt over his head. "Scoot over." He commanded, returning the rest of his clothes to their original place on the floor. "Scoot over… we're gonna sleep." He moved her over with a tap of his hand, climbing in after her. He wrapped his arms around her, encouraging her to lie down, like he would have done Katie.

"Just sleep?" Michaela mumbled, her eyes already growing tired,

"Just sleep."

"And you'll stay?"

"I'll be here when you wake up." Content, she lay over, tucking her back against his chest, feeling his body curl around hers, holding her secure. Her eyes grew heavy and then they closed….

…. When they opened again, Michaela was greeted with the glistening rays of the early morning sun. She'd moved in her sleep, still nestled next to Sully, but now laying on her back. She felt the heaviness of his arms across her stomach before she registered seeing anything else. She stared for a few seconds at the ceiling before feeling the soft breaths that smoothed across her forehead. She turned to the right, and found Sully, still lying still, but with wide eyes. She smiled, stretching her aching body.

"You've been awake long?"

"Just watchin' ya." Her lashes batted against her cheeks and she turned to her side as he propped his head on a stiffening elbow. Her eyes skidded around him, gazing at the clock ticking silently on the mantle, It was six- ten.

"Mmm, we have fifty minutes." She whispered, nuzzling her face back into the pillow.

"Til what?" Her eyes flashed open to watch him.

"Katie always comes in to wake me up on Saturdays. She'll come in about 7"

"Mmm." He sighed his understanding, still falling into watching her, a soft smile playing at his lips. He watched as Michaela blushed under his gaze, which made him smile more. Lazily, Michaela lifted her hand, running her fingers along the edges of the long scare that tore down his cheek.

"What happened there?" She asked simply, and the spell was broken. Sully turned his head from her, rolling to his back, stretching his shoulder out. Now it was Michaela's turn to prop herself up, watching his face as he swallowed.

"Took a rifle blow. It's the last thing I remember. When I first woke up, couldn't see anything outta that eye." As he spoke, her fingers ran the length of the scare, her face tightening in concern. She lifted a finger before his eyes and slowly moved it to the side, stopping far into his peripheral vision.

"Can you see that?" She asked, watching his eyes as they stay trained on her. His hand snuck out from beneath the covers and grasped her finger, pulling it against his chest. Michaela smiled, test passed. Slowly she leaned over and places a soft kiss to the center of the mangled skin, as if her kiss had the power to heal. His hand ran up the center of her back, feeling the knots of her spin. He raised up to capture her lips. It was a deep, slow kiss, gentle, nothing like the night before.

They both sighed as they parted, smelling the sweet aroma of the fire blending with the scent of their skin.

They took the second to catch their breath and then Michaela lowered her head to his. She pulled back slightly, "fifty minutes?" Sully grumbled against her lips.

"Uh-Huh." With a smooth motion, he rolled her over to her back.

Their love was more smooth and indulgent than the night before, realizing what had been lost in their frantic effort to reconsummate their bodies. Now they took their time, rediscovering each other. Michaela found the sensitive spot at the hinge of Sully's jaw, placing a line of kisses to the area before flicking her tongue out to taste the skin. Her back arched luxuriously as his hand ran down her body, this time taking the chance to massage her skin, pressing down her back, running down the curve of her bottom. She sighed at the caress, rolling her head back for his persistent mouth running the curve of her neck. They're movements were slow, enjoyed, and when they joined it didn't feel as though they were trying to beat time, it felt as if time actually stopped, and there was nothing around but the feel of their skin tingling, the sound of their breath, and the gentle movement of their rhythm. Michaela whispered his name into his ear as she tensed around him, senses heightened, feeling everything that life had to offer her at that moment.

When they lay still, Michaela curled her body into his, a broad smile stretching her face. "I forgive you." She mumbled, and Sully was freed.

Five minutes later, a fully clothed Michaela and Sully were nestling back under the covers, prepared for the door to swing open. Katie popped her head inside, looking over to the bed; face squishing when she realized that someone was there with her mommy. Still, though, she scurried over and was welcomed by Michaela's firm hold that pulled her into bed with them, tucking her into the sheets between them.

"Good morning." Michaela nuzzled her face. Katie didn't register the embrace as her eyes still fixed on Sully.

"Mo'nin."

"Do you see Papa?" Michaela whispered, finally grabbing her attention and pulling it toward her. Katie nodded and then turned back to Sully.

"Why you here?" Sully's face froze, his eyes skimming to Michaela over the top of Katie's head. Had she not understood after all? Before he could say anything though, Katie completed the thought. "You can have yor own woom." She told him as if it were a secret. Sully chuckled, reaching out to ruffle her hair.

"I like getting' ta share a room with your ma."

Michaela shifted over, pilling a few pillows behind her and pulling Katie into her lap. "Do you know what day it is?"

"It's Thadaday. Tell me a story about Poppy." She said, picking at the buttons on the front of Michaela's nightgown.

"Well, I think Papa's going to tell the story this morning." She smiled at Sully, watching his hand reach out to run down Katie's back. He couldn't take his hands off her; he was just so mesmerized.

"Sure am." Two blue eyes turned up at him.

"'Bout What?"

"About his adventures these past few years." Michaela answered, snuggling down. She nodded over to him, giving him the signal.

"Everyone comfortable? Ok…"

It was the best morning both Michaela and Sully could remember.

* * *

_Finally, reunited!!!_


	21. Safely Through

**Chapter 20**

**Safely Through**

"_Well, if the gods are to give you such a comfortable burden of old age, there's good hope that you will come safely through all your trails"_

**Ten Months Later**

The sun broke over the highest mountain, rising higher and higher in the sky. It was late, far later than she should have slept, but Michaela didn't care, she'd hardly slept at all last night. She stretched lazily against the fluffy pillows that surrounded her, slowly slipping her hand across the feather tick before her. She found nothing but cold sheets under her palm. Lazily, she lifted her head from the pillow and looked around before finally struggling herself into a sitting position. She grabbed her robe and moved to the door.

Downstairs, the once mangled walls over the homestead had long been repaired, windows had been replaced, furniture purchased (all with the help of the money embarrassedly handed to them. The governor of the Colorado Territory himself had assured Sully and Michaela that there was never any intention to forcibly take the property in the manner in which it was attempted and they he hoped the sum was enough to pay for the damaged.) In fact, it almost looked as if nothing had changed. The large room still held the secrets of memories and promises of a happy family. Now, the soft clanking of plates echoed through the room proceeded by the ever wonderful smell of pancakes.

"I wanna wear my bwue dress today." Katie chatted away, moving back and forth against the cabinets in order to keep up with her father's movements across the floor.

"Ya sure ya don't wanna wear the green one?" Sully asked, setting a stack of plates on the counter.

"No, the bwue one." Katie replied definitively.

"I think it's gonna be too hot."

"But it's cold outhide."

"Only in the morning. By the time we get to town today it's gonna be hot." Katie fell silent, and the next time Sully took the chance to glance at her he found her arms folded across her chest glaring at him unamused. Sully chuckled, "We'll talk 'bout it." He added glasses and forks next to the plates. "Why don't ya go upstairs and wake you're ma up."

"I'm afraid that won't be necessary." Michaela spoke for the first time since she'd entered the room having enjoyed simply watching the scene before her.

"Mommy!" Katie cried rushing over to her and wrapping tow arms around her mother's leg.

"Good morning precious."

"We made breakfast!"

"I see that. It smells wonderful." She moved over to the stove, surveying the tall stack of pancakes sitting next to a skillet of eggs and large slab of bacon. She stared wide-eyed at the sheer magnitude of food.

"Had ta make sure that we'd have enough." Sully explained into her ear, moving down in order to kiss her on the cheek. Despite her pursed lips, Michaela's eyes fluttered closed as she enjoyed the nearness of her body to him. His hand moving across the curve of her hip to rest against the ever-growing mound of her belly. He could feel the soft fluttering of movement under his palm. Michaela laughed, turning her eyes down onto the bulge of her gown. "I think someone is hungry."

"Then let's eat, the train gets here at one."

* * *

Colorado Springs was bursting with life. Men and women filled the streets, travelling this way and that, each taking care of their own business. Sully pulled the wagon to a halt in front of the clinic and was the first one down, lifting Katie behind him before turning for Michaela. With gentle, easy motions, he helped lower her from the wagon, and when her feet hit the ground, she turned up to him with a shy smile. Her hands coming to rest on her most darling of cargo.

"I go see Miss Grace!" Katie called, running off toward the tent toward their right. In the distance, the faint sound of train whistle blew across the land.

"Hey Dr. Mike, Sully." Matthew stepped off the boardwalk in front of his office, falling into line next to his adoptive parents.

"Afternoon, Matthew." Sully called, leaning around Michaela's shoulder.

"How has your morning been?" Michaela asked, her attention being drug from each side in the whirl of people.

"It's been good. Got a letter from Brian."

"Yes, he said he was going to write you."

"Sounds like he's enjoying himself at school." Matthew noted with a smile, obvious proud of his little brother.

"Yea, and it don't hurt that he's got Colleen and Elizabeth close." Sully noted, stepping up to the top of the train platform. He reached down and held his arm out to Michaela to help her up.

"Oh Sully," Loren's voice could be heard before he could be seen walking from the train depot, a telegraph in hand.

"Loren." Sully nodded his head.

"Ted Nelson came by yesterday askin' if ya might want a job as builder down in Boulder. Told him I'd let ya know, but I didn't think ya'd be that interested."

Sully smiled, his hand gravitating up Michaela's back. "Thanks, Loren, but I'm gonna be stickin' close ta home for a while.

"Ah, I thought so." He grumbled, "Well, I said I'd tell ya and I told ya." Loren's shrug made Sully chuckle as he continued on his way.

The whistle grew louder as the front of the train appeared in the distance. "This is it." Michaela's voice appeared in Sully's ear, holding the excitement and nervousness that he felt in his chest.

"Yea, this is it." They shared a smile for the brief moment as the train pulled into the station.

The train gave a sigh of exhaustion as it stilled on the track, kicking up steam behind it to float up and over the platform. The first passenger arrived off the train in the smoke and fog, as if emerging from nowhere. Sully's eyes scanned the crowd and then with a jerk of his wrist he pointed. "There he is." The small, red headed boy emerged from the side of the train, looking slightly as he had almost three years ago but as though he'd grow up since the last time Sully saw him. Two green eyes searched and found him, a grin breaking his freckled face.

"Mr. Sully." James Finnegan stepped off the train and moved directly to Sully and Michaela, clasping the older man's hand. "I can't tell you how good it is to see you."

"Same here James. Same here." Sully answered, shifting his attention to Michaela, "James I'd like to introduce you to my wife Dr. Michaela Quinn." Finnegan's eyes turned to Michaela and widened, almost speechless but he quickly recovered himself, offering his hand.

"I've heard so much about you." Michaela blushed slightly, "and I you" she replied. "I'm happy to finally get the chance to meet you, and to thank you." Now it was Finnegan's turn to blush.

"James!" Matthew appeared from where he had ducked in to speak to Horace. "I'm glad ya came…."

The two men began to talk, chatting along the way as the four adults began to walk back the wagon. Michaela and Sully hung back. "So that's the man who saved your life." Michaela noted turning her eyes to him. Sully nodded.

"Yea, got a lot to owe him."

Together, the two of them stepped off the platform, but as Michaela moved to take another step, Sully stopped her, pulling her back to him. His hand lifted pointing to a shape in the far distance. "Ya see it?" He asked, a hint of excitement in his voice. Michaela nodded. "It's a Hawk." They stood there paused in the moment as the single Hawk arched against the sky moving higher and higher and then lower. Then, as if magically another one appeared, weaving the pattern with the first. It was obvious that they were partners. "No matter where one goes, the other one ain't far away. He won't let her outta his sight. He ain't gonna let her go." He whispered close to Michaela's ear. Smiling, feeling the warmth of the sunlight against her face, Michaela relished what it was to feel normal. She turned to him, to see his smile matching hers and there, she placed a kiss.

* * *

_Well, there is The Shroud Unwoven, I realized at the end that it never came up what happened to Howard, rest assured, he's serving a rather long sentence in jail. Won't be bothering Mike and Sully much longer. Thank you for all of your patience, I am forever indebted to you!_


End file.
